Darksiders: The Resurgence
by LLaz
Summary: Story summary inside. Set several weeks after the ending of the game.
1. Phase 1, Chapter 1

**Summary: **

After defeating Abaddon, breaking the Seventh Seal, and severing his ties to the Charred Council, War embarks on a mission to find the rest of the Four Horsemen. He expects to eventually find his brethren. But instead, he happens upon a discovery that will utterly rock him, as well as all of existence, to his battle-hardened core.

**Author's Note:** My little take on what happens after the ending of the game. To be honest, I can't wait till the second one comes out in 2012. So until then, this'll satisfy my Darksiders craving. Please read and review - I would greatly appreciate it if any body does. Thanks and enjoy.

* * *

In the distance, a battle raged.

Atop his high perch on a cliff overlooking the flat plains, War, one of the Four Horsemen, observed the conflict from afar.

Since his return to Earth, War has learned much over the course of a few weeks. After freeing Samael and returning his power to him, the demon made himself scarce.

'_Undoubtedly, being the demon that he is, Samael is probably plotting his return to the world,'_ War thought to himself.

It would certainly be a feasible outcome. After all, with Abaddon in the guise of the Destroyer now dead, Samael was free to conduct his own operations. War foresaw a good number of power struggles amongst the demons in the future for control of the Earth. But the thing with Samael was that he had power and a lot of it. Indeed, he was almost on par with the Destroyer when he was still around. But with the Destroyer destroyed by War's hands, Samael found himself at the top of the demonic food chain, so to speak. There were others who wanted Earth as well, but they would have to fight their way through Samael and his ever expanding armies first, like any good conquerer.

War however, along with the other Horsemen, would not have much trouble battling the countless demons of Hell. It would be the leaders that would prove to be problematic. Like himself, War's brotherhood was considered a major threat to both Heaven and Hell. Indeed, as the Destroyer put it, all of creation cared little of the fate of the Four Horsemen, especially War. After all, War single handedly decimated the demonic hoards (along with a Hellguard angel here and there) on Earth just to simply clear his name. In fact, to add insult to injury, War unknowingly created an opening for Heaven to make a comeback. It would be quite a while before Heaven can do any major damage though.

But the universal hatred of the Horsemen was not War's only problem now. Since learning the truth behind the premature initiation of the End War, to which the Third Kingdom was completely and utterly destroyed and Heaven suffering a major defeat, War and his brethren have gone rogue.

War's vision, courtesy of the Tree of Knowledge, taught him that the Charred Council was indeed corrupt, as Abaddon stated before his death. While the Council sought to uphold the balance, in which the Council failed miserably, their methods did not honor the balance. With them, the ends justified the means.

'_And look where that mentality lead them - me and my brethren leaving the Council. I believe that we were their greatest asset.'_

Shortly after the Seventh Seal was broken, War received a message from the others, stating that they knew of his situation and would defect from the Council and suggested that he do the same. If he ever returned to the Council, they would just execute him anyway, despite him clearing his name. After all, War knew their dirty little secret.

And as for War's thought about he and his brothers, it would prove to be accurate. The Council, however, had another secret as well - its very own private army, consisting of an elite mix of angels, demons, and other lesser known beings. But it stood no match to Heaven's proud warriors and Hell's numerous legions. However, the mere knowledge of such an army - one that owed complete loyalty to the Charred Council - was a fact that no one else but the Council itself knew, along with the Four Horsemen. It was a secret army, one that conducted in covert operations. They were more like ninjas than warriors.

And since the brotherhood has now gone rouge, they could potentially lead to the Council's downfall. In fact, War foresaw conflicts with the Council's agents in the future as well. If word got out about a top secret army that obeyed orders without question, then the Council would be on the receiving end of attacks from both Heaven and Hell.

As for Heaven, the defeat of the Destroyer has become a major opportunity. In fact, War has noticed that the Hellguard has been conducting some unusual activity in recent days. Uriel, the leader of the Hellguard, has assembled all remaining angels on Earth to a single point and has not moved since.

'_They are holding their position. That is probably where their ranks will be reinforced. It seems that Uriel is trying to open up a path to Heaven.'_

War would not necessarily be surprised if Heaven sent several armies to aid Uriel as well. Once again, War foresaw battles with Heaven as well as Hell and the Council. Such a conflict would prove to be messy one, if not a downright defeat, if War was fighting alone.

Thus, with that thought, War reaffirmed to himself that it was crucial that he join up with the other three Horsemen. But this objective has lead to another dilemma for War - he can not seem to find them. For at least several weeks after the fall of the Destroyer, War has conducted a nearly endless search for the others, but has so far found no one. The only sign of their presence on Earth are the destroyed and broken corpses of numerous enemies.

The bullet ridden corpses of Strife's target practice, the unrecognizable bodies of Death's dismembered foes, and the beaten and scarred victims of Fury's violence. All were sure signs of their endeavors.

So that begged the question, who was off in the distance fighting?

From what War could tell, there were a lot of combatants and that the battle was a bit unfair and one-sided. There seemed to be only two factions - Hell versus an unknown faction. There were many demons - literally hundreds, if not a thousand or two, were fighting against...

War couldn't believe his eyes. Only _two _combatants where engaging what could rightfully be one of Hell's armies - and they were _winning._ _In open combat._ They were not hiding, nor doing hit and run tactics. The two were openly engaging the demons.

Despite it being broad daylight, War could not make out who it was. The battle was too far away for him to discern any recognizable features. However, in the distance, he could see frequent flashes of gunfire originating from the center of the demonic hoard. Further off away from the battle, distanced from everyone else and standing on a small hill that overlooked the battle, was the second fighter. Between this combatant and the main group was a literal trail of bodies. Gunfire came from this figure as well. From his position, War could hear the rolling echoes of the guns as they were fired.

The first thought that came to mind was his brothers, but War denounced that theory almost right away.

'_Even if they were my brothers, only one of them could be Strife. Neither Death nor Fury wields firearms. So who is this other warrior?'_

Judging from the rapid flashes of light coming from the center of the demonic formation, War surmised that figure could possibly be Strife. So who was that in the distance aiding him? A lone angel perhaps? War would not be surprised. After all, the demons was an angel's natural enemy.

But that would not necessarily explain the gunfire. Angels normally never use firearms (other than their own advanced weapons), unless they lose their weapon or their weapon is destroyed in some way. Even then, if they were willing to utilize an old gun, they would have to happen upon it first.

War himself was no stranger to ballistic weaponry. He still had Mercy that Ulthane gave to him and he used it frequently. In fact, he liked the small and noisy weapon. He used it in conjunction with his sword Chaoseater, either softening up his enemies or finishing them off.

In addition, War would sometimes find an old human weapon. He found the human firearms to be interesting (after all, he is called "War") and would use them whenever he found one until it was empty of bullets.

Sometimes, he would find an old, decrepit human military base. Whenever he was in one, he felt like, as the humans used to say, a child in a candy store. The armories were filled with guns of many different designs and War learned that almost all of them worked differently in some way. He was even more intrigued to find that there were many different kinds of firearms, from pistols that looked like smaller versions of his Mercy, to big multi-barreled Gatling guns. The latter of which were, by far, his favorite of them all.

While the human weapons were easy enough to understand how to use, it was the humans' military vehicles that really got him interested and excited. But, he did not know how the war machines worked or how to operate them. What frustrated the matter further was the fact that War did not understand the humans' written language and he quickly learned that there were many different languages as well, which further confounded his frustrations.

So whenever he could, War would spend some time studying the humans' vehicles. He quickly learned that almost all of these machines required a certain type of fuel in order to operate. Once he got the machines running, he learned that, just like firearms, there are many different designs and types of vehicles.

A blood-curdling roar rolled across the plains to War, wresting him from his thoughts.

What War heard was in fact a death cry, as one of the larger demons toppled to the ground. War could see the lone fighter in the center leap end over end off of the creature high into the air, the weapon firing as the figure fell to the ground in almost slow motion.

'_I think it is time to see what this warrior's identity is.'_

With that final thought, War _jumped_. It was at least a good hundred feet from the top of the cliff to the surface of the grassy plains. In mid-flight, he used the massive gauntlet on his left arm to grab the cliff face, hoping to find some purchase. He intended to make a series of grab-and-jumps until he was at the bottom, which would either slow down his fall, or stop it entirely so that he could proceed at his leisure. No such luck.

The cliff face was smooth and their were little obtrusions on the cliff to grab on to. So instead of his intended plan, War was now sliding down the cliff face. No matter. About halfway down, War decided on a different course of action.

He let himself fall until he was nearly at the bottom. Then, he kicked himself off of the cliff. Now in midair and in free-fall, he manifested his Shadowflight wings and simply glided to the ground. Right before he made landfall, the dark wings disappeared, their strength currently expended. War fell the last few feet and landed on the ground.

And then, suddenly, the ground next to him exploded in a spectacular display of fire - then War jumped _into_ the flames. But War did not incinerate himself by doing this - a couple seconds later, he emerged from the fire riding atop a powerful horse.

This horse was the steed of the First Horseman, Ruin. If War was a man, he would be a fairly large man. Ruin was even bigger than War. He exhaled smoke and fire from his nostrils, as if he was a dragon instead of a horse. His hooves were on fire. The skin on his powerful and sturdy legs were cracked with veins of magma racing up his legs. Numerous, angry red tattoos adorned his body like scars earned from hard-fought battles. His mane and tale, like his skin, was as black as coal, with the hairs ending in red. And his eyes were the color of a raging inferno. The horse was a veritable firestorm, awaiting on command to unleash its scalding fury.

War grabbed the reins - Ruin, sensing his master at the saddle, perked up, ready for action.

"Ruin," War spoke. "It is time. We ride to battle."

Then, Ruin reared up on his hind legs and bellowed a soul shattering war cry. In the next second, Ruin shot off the mark, racing toward the conflict.

War readied Chaoseater. He could practically feel the angry blade come to life, yearning for blood. Indeed, he will quench the sword in the blood of his enemies and destroy all in his path. And in his wake, there will be pandemonium. In his wake, there will be death.

But above all, there will be War.


	2. Chapter 2

**_Author's Note_: **I would like to make a specail shoutout to these users:

**The Son of Sparda 343  
Brooklyn Maxwell  
horsechick  
Warlord Lawlz  
Demon Naruto 117**

I just want to say thank you to you guys for favoriting my story or adding me to your alert list. Although I would have preferred a review instead, this is just as good. So, as a reward, I'm posting Chapter 2 early. I originally intended to post this in about a week, but because of these fine gentlemen (or ladies), it's here now.

To the rest of you folks out there reading this story, if you decide to give my story some attention, then I'll post the next chapter faster. If not, well, then I'll go at my leisure.

So, with that being said, ladies and gentlemen, enjoy. And once again, thank you.

* * *

The killing fields. That was how she would describe this battlefield. And between her and the writhing, screaming mass of conflict that she looked down on from her hill a hundred feet away, was a veritable no man's land - rife with literally hundreds of bodies and drenched in demonic blood.

A deafening roar filled her ears as one of the large demons toppled to the ground, multiple bullet holes in its head. Her cohort was flipping end over end, blasting away at the demons.

"WHAAAAHOOOO!"

She looked up from her rifle's scope and smiled. Typical of him to be enjoying himself. He was such a combat freak that she was beginning to wonder if he was even sane. But then again, sanity did not really quite matter in this day and age. After all, survival was more important than trying to keep one's sanity in check. The two were so busy trying to survive that they didn't have time to worry about one's mental state.

Another roar filled her ears, this time it came from a much smaller demon. Another foolish demon had noticed the lapse in weapons fire and was running towards her position with several others. Phantom Guards - simple soldier demons. No matter. She could easily handle them, even if they were nearly upon her. She looked through the scope again and aimed straight between the eyes of one of them.

_CRACK!_

The report of the rifle echoed across the plains once more. One shot, one kill, and one less demon to worry about.

Quickly, she aimed at another one and fired again.

_CRACK! CRACK!_

Two shots squeezed off that screamed straight towards the demon - one in the chest, the other in the left shin. The chest exploded in a gory shower of blood and bone while the leg below the shin was simply blown clean off. The demon toppled, but it survived and kept on coming, albeit much more slowly this time. It crawled at her slowly but determinedly, all the while leaving behind a trail of blood in its wake.

She switched targets quickly to deal with the last one. She maneuvered the cross-hairs straight for the demon's head, fired -

_CRACK!_

- and missed! The demon, anticipating such a shot, ducked under the bullet. In her scope, she could see the bullet hit something else off in the distance instead. The bullet cleaved clean through the skull of another demon - this one right behind her cohort, about to attack - killing it instantly.

Time seemed to slow as she saw her friend briefly turn his head around. And he smiled and gave her a playful wink.

_He knew! _He knew the demon was there behind him, ready to strike. One way or another, he would have dealt with it. But she killed the demon first - on pure chance. And then time sped back up and her own demon was hastily charging again.

It brought its axe over its head, planning to cleave her in two. The soldier demon brought the axe down -

- but it only caught air. She sidestepped to the left.

And in a split second, she whipped out another gun - a large caliber pistol - and fired point blank into the creature's shoulder.

The demon dropped the weapon and grabbed its shoulder, howling in pain. She holstered her sidearm and stepped closer, bringing the butt of her rifle around, and smacking the demon in the face. But before the hell-spawn could recoil in pain, she jabbed the thing in the face, bashing its face in with the buttstock. And she did it again, and again, and again, before whipping the stock around and smacking the demon one last time.

Its only reaction was to dumbly stumble backwards, clutching its face now.

She brought the stock back to her right shoulder and sighted through the scope. In a few seconds, the demon recovered from the beating and looked up -

- only to look down the barrel of the gun.

"See ya, shitbag."

_CRACK!_

The demon fell, a bullet hole cutting clean through the skull.

The wounded demon was almost upon her now, wheezing with the physical pain of its injuries. She calmly pulled out her sidearm and leveled it at the pitiful creature, execution style. It stopped crawling and looked up, starring up into the barrel of a gun and cold, merciless eyes.

It let out wheezing laughter, as if the mere sight of a gun was the funniest thing in the world.

"You..." It started to violently cough up blood.

After a few seconds of racking coughs, it continued.

"You think...the two of you...have won?" It laughed again.

She just continued that same cold stare, the dying monstrosity's words clearly not having any affect on her.

"Look around you...there are...hundreds of us here...and countless others...on this world alone."

"I am fully aware of that, demon," she said, unblinkingly.

It laughed again - a vile, pitiful sound.

"Then...you should know...the Kingdom of Hell has...laid claim...to your world. And yet...you continue fighting...when...all hope is lost."

It coughed again, spewing blood on the ground that it lay on.

"This battle...of yours..." Another cough. "...is forfeit. We have...already...won...the war. Your feeble...attempts at victory...is all just a...futile...effort."

The accursed thing was pausing even more now. No doubt, it was close to death now.

Victory? Is that what this demon actually believed what they were fighting for? Victory in a war that was fought long ago? That, long ago, they suffered total defeat in - no, total annihilation? What a deluded fool. She decided to entertain the demon's rhetoric, if only for a short while until it died.

She lowered her pistol and slowly kneeled down, the demon's eyes locked to hers all the while. She put her face real close to its own, totally unafraid if the demon had any ability left to attack her.

"In the last few moments of your worthless life, let me ask you this," her voice came out low and calm. "Demon: what do _you_ think we are fighting for?"

The demon, surprised and confused at her course of action and even more so by her questioning, did not know how to respond. Surely, they were fighting to win back their world, right? Or was there some other reason?

The two stayed silent for several seconds, with her waiting for an answer. In the background - with the booming gunfire, the roaring of the bloodthirsty, and the screaming of the dead and dying - the noisy battle was in stark contrast to this twisted moment of peace.

No answer came.

"Since you don't seem to have an answer to my question," she said. "...let me tell you something. We've already lost the war, long ago. For the two of us, it would be fruitless to engage in any more conflict. Especially since, as you have pointed out, your ranks are near limitless.

"Ever since that goddamn war, we've been fighting not for victory, but for our very survival."

The expression on her face changed from cold neutrality to one of hatred and hostility - a sneer of anger formed on her face.

"And it's all because of you - of you and your vile kind," she spoke calmly, but with plenty of malice imbued in her voice.

"My comrade might fight for our continued existence," she continued. "But what I fight for is something much more personal - revenge. Every hour of my conscious life, I look forward to killing as many of your kind as I can, until either me or all of demon-kind is dead."

And then it realized something. The demon realized what kind of creature she was.

The demon could practically see the venom dripping from her voice - could practically see the aurora surrounding her.

It could practically see the fiery red waves of anger radiate from her form. Perhaps it was hallucinating. Normally seeing such things was something only a very powerful demon could witness. But even so, hallucinating or not, such a sight was an absolute beauty to behold for all of his kind.

It chuckled darkly.

Despite her anger, she tilted her head curiously. "What's so funny?" she asked calmly. She was still angry, but it was a rule with her to never let her emotions get the better of her. "Do I amuse you, demon?"

It coughed up some more blood before replying: "No...I was just noticing...how...beautiful...you look."

She recoiled in confusion and disgust.

"I can see the...waves...of animosity...emanating...from...your body. It is absolutely...ravishing. It is...a shame...that you're of...the -"

Violent coughs seized its body once more.

'_How flattering. I've got a demon hitting on me.'_ She stood back up to her full height.

"Then this beauty is the last thing that you will ever see."

With that, she leveled the pistol back to the demon's head.

_BANG!_

It slumped over, dead, with a large caliber bullet lodged in its brain.

'_Well that was interesting,' _she thought as she holstered her pistol.

'_Can't say that I was flattered though. A demon, calling me beautiful.' _She shuddered at the thought.

Then she just remembered what she was doing before her little conversation.

'_Oh shit. I completely forgot about the battle!'_

She quickly leveled the stock to her shoulder and looked through the scope. She breathed a major sigh of relief when she saw her partner still fighting. He was still kicking ass and taking names, and just generally decimating the competition. But there were still hundreds of the demons left. This battle was going to take a long time. The were probably going to have to retreat soon - they only had so much ammo.

She was about to continue sniping more demons when a piercing cry rolled across the plains.

Cold sweat perspired on her brow. Her blood ran cold as goose bumps formed on her all over her body. A strong sense of fear overwhelmed her. But she was just as confused as to why she was scared.

'_What the hell was that?!'_

She swung her rifle in the direction of the noise - several hundred yards away.

In the distance, riding atop a black, flaming horse, was a monster of a man. The man's identity was obscured by a red hood. His armor was an eclectic bunch, with different pieces of armor placed on his body. A massive gauntlet enclosed his left arm. And lastly, strapped to his back was an even larger sword.

Alarm bells started ringing in her head. No way in Hell could this man be human. Everything about him, as well as his horse, screamed inhuman. Certainly, his form seemed to be that of a man, but he seemed more alien than human. A deep sense of foreboding began to well up in her gut, as well as..._recognition?_

'_Where have I seen that man before?'_

She kept watching the rider atop his flaming horse, charging with sword now outstretched, as he continued to rocket ever closer. Down below, several demons had noticed this new arrival and looks of bloodlust and extreme hatred adorned their faces. The demons that noticed him separated from the group and moved to attack the large rider instead. But the rider was still a ways away. The combatants would not merge for at least a minute or two.

She went back to sniping more demons in the center group, but she was not completely focused on her prey. The hooded rider dominated her thoughts - the fear that the man induced even when he was hundreds of feet away, which was killing distance for her, was so powerful that it began to affect her performance. More than once, she missed her kill-shots with her quarry.

'_Ridiculous! I'm letting one mere warrior scare the crap out of me! It would be better if I just took him out!'_

And indeed, after that thought, she swung her rifle in the rider's direction, preparing to squeeze off a shot -

- only to witness the rider cleave a demon cleanly in half. Effortlessly, he circled around his new enemies, slicing them into neat and bloody little bits. The demons were decimated in mere seconds.

And then it hit her like a speeding train - the terrifying realization dawned on her.

'_I've never seen that man before in my life. But I've certainly read of him.'_

She recalled a passage in a tome that has not been read for a hundred years - a book that has long lost its significance.

The Holy Bible. And in it, there was one particular phrase she remembered with crystal clarity.

"**And then another horse came out, a fiery red one. Its rider was given power to take peace from the earth and to make men slay each other. To him was given a huge sword."**

"Oh shit..." she whispered. Her gun arm went limp, bringing the rifle with it.

"It's fucking War."

War reared his horse back on its two hind legs once more, with his steed letting out a bloodthirsty cry that chilled her to the bone.

War had made his presence known.

The battle below her immediately screeched to a standstill as every demon in the mass turned their heads to see War, once again, charging at full speed. Some demons, instantly, entered a blood-crazed frenzy, going straight for War. Again, he killed them all with minimal effort.

And he was still riding hard towards the mass of demons - and her friend was in the center of it all, still fighting hard.

"Shit! Lazarus, get out of there!"


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Note****:** I really have to thank all of you folks out there who have read my story. I would like you to say thank you to all you folks who reviewed and gave me your support and opinions - as well as those of you who added me or my story to your listings. I'm really grateful to all of you, and I really mean that. Allow me to provide to you, the reader, a little message that my favorite author is fond of saying often.

"Never underestimate the power of your encouragement." Good ol' **Matthew Reilly****.** He's gone from humble beginnings to being a highly successful and well recognized writer. In fact, his style of writing has had a real influence on me - there's action and lots of it. For those of you folks out there who want to read a good story, I highly recommend him. Again, it's **Matthew Reilly** - he's an Australian novelist.

As for me, well, lets just say that this story has been getting much more publicity than my other one. Your words and opinions have really made me a happier man. In fact, I encourage you, the reader, to give a word of thanks to every author that you pay attention to - whether on this site, or your own favorite professional novelists. Trust me, most, if not all, would be more than willing to recieve such praise. After all, it is the author's job to provide the audience with an enjoyable experience.

And so, with that being said, I present to you, Chapter 3. So sit back, relax, select your favorite music, and enjoy the show.

* * *

War and Ruin charged. And they did not stop - not even when the welcoming party arrived. Sure, it was rude to not properly greet them on foot - and in doing so, give the demons an actual chance to even hurt him - but War did not care.

He had only one goal - ascertain the identities of these two warriors who were fighting the demons. From there, well, he would just have to wait and see.

As for the so-called "welcoming party," he simply had Ruin blast right through them - trampling some of the demons under Ruin's thunderous hooves. The ones that managed to dodge to the side of Ruin fared no better in their efforts. They were either cut down by Chaoseater or ignored entirely as the horse and rider rocketed onward. The latter of the two, War noticed, only seemed to further enrage the demons, who shouted hate-filled curses as War increased the distance between them.

He was almost there now - the outer edges of the demonic mass was practically in firing range of Mercy.

A Phantom Guard came at him from the right, roaring at him like a blood-crazed animal. War just simply held out Chaoseater to the side. The blade slammed into the demon, cleaving it in two from the torso down. War did not even swing the blade; it was almost laughably easy. It was as if the demon's body parted itself to give passage to the blade, as if Chaoseater was some all powerful deity that was to be worshiped.

And with that enemy slain, War jumped off Ruin high into the air. Now riderless, the large horse disappeared into the ground with a storm of fire and brimstone. Now above the battle, he could see who these two warriors were. He manifested Shadowflight so that he could get several more seconds of air time so as to better see who these two were.

War glanced off towards the hill where the other fighter was just in time to see her snipe one demon that had separated itself from the pack. Blood erupted from the demon's head - a clean shot. But more importantly, War could now see who this sharpshooter was.

The sniper had a distinctly feminine figure. She wielded a high powered, scoped rifle, as well as a sidearm of some sort in her thigh holster. Her hair was a snow white, much like an angel's. But what completely contradicted the theory of her being an angel was that she had no wings. None. Not even the disfigured lumps of a fallen angel. And then she looked up from her scope -

- and looked him directly in the eyes. War could tell that she knew who he was, as there was an almost overwhelming fear in her eyes. But it was the color of her eyes that seized his attention - they were a simple gray. Not the gold of a young angel, nor the fiery orange of a demon. And then, an absolutely impossible thought entered War's mind.

'_No. It can't be -'_

And then the Shadowflight wings gave out on him, causing him to plummet to the ground. He shifted his body, so that his descent would place him directly in the center - right where the second of the two combatants were fighting.

The warrior was doing an admirable job at staying alive in what looked like a hopeless situation. Just him and his guns, surrounded on all sides by bloodthirsty demons. But he seemed to be having difficulty with one particularly tenacious member of the demonic horde, leaving his back completely exposed. One demon was moving up behind him, readying a killing blow.

War, however, would have none of that - not until he learned who this mysterious warrior was.

Right before the demon was about to strike, War dropped out of the sky - seemingly from nowhere. The demon was completely surprised. It hesitated - and it paid dearly for this.

Before it could react, War drew Chaoseater and swung it like a baseball bat.

The sword slammed into the Hell-spawn with incredible force, sending the demon rocketing skyward.

And then the battle went deathly quiet. All the noise - all the chaos that emanated from this battle ceased instantly. But there was one sound that still existed - a struggle.

War sheathed his sword, but he did not turn to face the fight.

Steel against steel - one blade grinding against another. The sounds of two warriors grunting with exertion.

War did not turn.

Then, an end to the stalemate. One warrior let out an exaggerated grunt - he had been the unfortunate one. He was pushed back.

War did not turn.

The sound of a blade sinking into flesh and blood permeated the battlefield. A pained exhale of breath, followed by ragged breathing. And then War heard the utterance of a single, malicious word.

He did not turn.

"Die."

_BOOOOM! _A deep, thunderous gunshot echoed throughout the plains. War heard the distinct sound of a blade being removed from a corpse.

And then, _CLICK!_

War whirled himself around with lightning speed, Mercy drawn and leveled in an instant.

The sight that met him shocked him beyond all belief.

War had turned around only to stare down the barrel of a sidearm. A stalemate. But that was not what had seized War's attention. He could care less about the gun being pointed at his head, especially since he was doing the same thing towards the other.

No, it was not the stalemate that sent shockwaves throughout War's being. He had been in numerous situations like this before, albeit usually not with Mercy. It was the warriors identity that had made him stop and look.

'_Impossible...'_

This warrior was _human._ Not an angel, and most certainly not a demon.

The human was a male - he was tall, lean, and muscular, standing at around 5'10" - although he would never reach War's size. He seemed to have an air about him that seemed to utterly dominate the scene, despite being smaller than most of the demons here.

He had a cool and confident demeanor about him - he looked like he could take on the world single-handedly and emerge from the pandemonium unscathed.

His clothing was old and well-worn. On his feet were brown combat boots, scuffed after what looked like many years of use. Cargo pants adorned his legs, with the fabric being of a woodland camouflage color. Here and there, patches of the pants had torn slightly, revealing the white fabric underneath the camouflage coloring that held everything together.

Farther up, he was wearing a sleeveless, skintight white shirt that showed off his muscular physique. Strapped to his frame and going over his shoulders was a bandolier that was filled with nothing but shotgun shells. His entire attire was covered in the blood of his adversaries, clearly showing how long he had been fighting.

Of particular intrigue to War was the human's weapons. He wielded two long, black rifles, one for each hand - one of which was currently in a specialized thigh holster. From what War could tell during his time traveling and exploring the ruined human cities and military bases, he surmised that the rifles were shotguns. These rifles, however, looked heavily modified.

Each rifle had a laser sight targeting module attached to the side of the weapon, giving the human a tactical aiming advantage. On the underside of the rifle was a magazine of some sort that War has never seen before. It looked short and stocky, with a cylindrical design - the magazine seemed to be a supplement for the tubular magazine that was standard for most shotguns. The tubular magazine itself was as long as the barrel, complete with a pump.

But of notable interest to War was what looked like oversized and exaggerated bayonets, complete with glistening, silver steel. They might as well have been blades attached to the rifles.

The blades were placed directly in front of the barrels of each gun. But they had a separation in the steel that allowed the ammunition to pass through. So instead of one, whole blade, it looked like two separate ones - one fixed to the bottom, and one fixed to the top. The top blade, however, seemed to go back along the barrel for several inches, seeming to also serve as rudimentary sights.

But this weapon was down at the human's side. The current firearm being aimed at War was a simple handgun, complete with a small bayonet.

Then War's glowing blue eyes glanced upwards and locked with non-glowing, emerald green eyes.

The human's head sported long, unruly brown hair, evident that he had not been groomed in a while. A 5 o'clock shadow covered a good portion of his face, once again indicating that he had yet to clean himself properly for some time. A straight, thin nose and moderately-sized lips made up the rest of his thin, oval-shaped head.

He had cocky little smile plastered on his face.

"Well stranger, just who might you be?" he asked. His voice was deep - mature.

The human's gaze lingered from War's down to the quad-barreled Mercy.

He eyed the large revolver, tilting his head curiously, like some cat. He let out an appreciative whistle.

"Nice gun. Where'd you get it?"

Now War was confused. "You aim your weapon at me, and yet you attempt to make conversation? Are you even human?"

The man let out a short laugh. "Last time I checked, yeah, I was human...I think."

"You think?" War asked suspiciously, narrowing his eyes. "Do you not know what you are?"

The man relaxed his posture, lowering the sidearm a little bit. He gave a shrug. "Who knows. I'm not so sure myself sometimes," he laughed again.

War grew even more perplexed.

"And besides," the human continued. "what does me being human have anything to do with trying to strike up a conversation? Just trying to be civil is all I'm doing."

"There is no place for civility on the battlefield, human."

He snorted. "Jesus, you've got a major stick shoved up your ass. Would it kill you to relax a bit?"

War merely raised a white eyebrow.

"I take that as a no, then," he said, laughing again. He raised the pistol back up to the previous position.

"So then, if we're going to be having at each other, then can you at least tell me your name? I'd hate to kill you if I didn't know your name. It's just plain rude."

War narrowed his eyes even further. "Kill me?" he asked curiously, as if the mere thought was impossible.

"Well yeah. You never know who you might run into on a battlefield. Hell, the next guy over might be the biggest and meanest fucker on this side of the world. You never know when you might run into that one person who is superior to you in every way." The human finished the sentence with another one of his cocky smiles.

'_He thinks he can actually hurt me,' _War thought arrogantly.

War was never arrogant. But after being on the battlefield for so long and not being killed for every battle that he was in - well, that can change a warrior's ego. War however, was quick to check his arrogance - he promptly bit it in the bud and threw it away. An ego can end up being the undoing of any warrior.

And besides, despite what the human was implying, he had sound logic, for which War had to agree with.

Then, completely unexpectedly, one of the demons tentatively stepped forward from the rest of the horde. However, it spoke boldly, as if he was in command of the entire army. The monstrosity probably was not - it was another one of those Phantom Guards.

"Do not be so rash with your words, human," it spoke deeply. It stepped closer to the man.

"The warrior that you see before you is in fact War, rider of the Red Horse and one of the Four Horsemen of the Charred Council."

The man completely lowered his pistol this time. "Tell me, demon."

He whipped up his sidearm, lightning quick, to the demon's head, and glared at it with the fury of a thousand warriors.

"Since when have I asked for your council?" he asked maliciously.

_BANG!_

The dead demon dropped to the ground, an entry wound between the eyes.

The horde was shocked silent even further, if that was even possible.

"Does it matter who they are? Kill them both!" a demon roared.

The demons were awoken from their stupor and roared with murderous glee.

War and the man exchanged glances - a complete "oh shit" moment.

They looked in opposite directions - War to the left, the man to the right. Then they charged at each other, weapons held high. Then at the last second, the two spun and ducked - the blades of their respective owners whizzing past overhead.

Two demons fell apart at the seams as steel ripped through flesh and bone.

Now, the man and War stood back to back, sword raised and gun drawn. They were surrounded on all sides, demons roaring with hateful bloodlust.

"So...War, huh?" The two glanced at each other over their shoulders, out of the corners of their eyes. The rider of the red horse nodded in acknowledgment. The man did the same.

He extended a hand beneath and behind his left arm to War.

"We really didn't get to introduce ourselves."

"And your name, human?"

War lowered Chaoseater and turned around, now facing the man. The man, holstered his sidearm, and did likewise, still offering his empty hand. Then, War extended his own, gauntlet-covered right hand, and clasped firmly.

The two shook.

"Lazarus."

War and Lazarus. Before, in a standoff. Now, in a mutual alliance between warriors.

Then, in a final frenzied cry, the demons charged from all directions.

The two spun again, back to back once more - weapons at the ready once again; War with Chaoseater, Lazarus with his two rifles.

"It'll be a pleasure fighting with you War."

"The same to you, Lazarus."

Lazarus gave one last cocky smile. "Right then. Let's kick some ass!"

And then, they themselves charged.

Amidst the insane cries of the demons, the frenzied roars of the Hell-spawn, two distinct sounds could be heard.

Above the din of the battlefield, two unstoppable war cries rang out and _dwarfed_ _everything else._


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's Note****:** Well folks, here's chapter 4. I'll warn you guys now though - the next chapter might take a little longer for me to finish. Up until now, I was already working on another chapter before I made an upload, so, like I said, this might take a little longer.

So, with that being said, check it out and tell me what you think. There are a several things from the game that I implemented in this chapter. Tell me if I described them good or not

Now enjoy a very combat-emphazised chapter.

* * *

When War made his appearance on the battlefield, she thought that the worst was about to happen - the death of either her, or Lazarus, or both. But it would not have mattered who would die then - if either one of them died, then their long and hard fought struggle would come to a morale-destroying halt.

Any fight that they found themselves in was always a victory. They did not have the option for defeat, especially after all these years - especially since they fought so hard for so long to simply survive. No, they could not lose. They never had that luxury.

So when she saw War riding across the plains atop his steed, ready to utterly rip apart any opposition in his path, she mentally prepared herself for the worst. She hoped - no, she _prayed_ that a negative outcome would not result in War joining the battle, but she prepared herself all the same.

If Lazarus went down fighting, then there would no longer be a reason to live. If that was to actually happen, then she would throw herself at the enemy, killing as many as she could before she herself succumbed.

And then her worst fears were realized - War and Lazarus met face to face, gun to gun.

But then, while she and the demons down below watched the stalemate unfold, something happened.

A flash of gunfire, several dead demons, and one massive outcry later, the two were back to back - ready to take on Hell together. _Together._

She couldn't believe her eyes. Had a mischievous demon snuck up on her and hit her with some type of hallucination? She blinked several times, rubbed her eyes, counted to ten - she even pinched herself. She peered through her scope at the duo in the center.

Sure enough, they were back to back - but more surprisingly, they were conversing amongst themselves. They even shook hands! No way could they be enemies now!

And then, she heard something that sent her morale soaring.

Amidst all the noise of the battlefield, she heard two battle cries that seemed to block out everything else - even the sound of her own beating heart.

Amidst the roars of the demonic horde, the sound of dual battle cries actually seemed to _push back_ the demons by themselves.

Then she was stunned to silence as she watched through her rifle's scope - absolute carnage.

War and Lazarus had initiated their unstoppable blitzkrieg.

* * *

Blade to the gut. Barrel towards the head. Pull the trigger.

_BOOM!_

Just like that, Lazarus felled another demon.

Then he rolled out of the way as an axe came careening downwards to were his head used to be.

In a split second, Lazarus finished his roll and was back on his feet. He circled the demon, firing one of his rifles one-handed.

_BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!_

The demon clutched its chest, three large smoking holes drilling into its body, courtesy of large caliber, fin-stabilized, sabot slugs. Then Lazarus dashed forward with his rifle fully extended. The blade on the weapon sunk into flesh with ease, excavating deep into the monstrosity's abdomen.

Then, in one swift motion, Lazarus pulled the blade out forcefully, twirled his body around, and brought his other rifle around in a curving ark. The blade sped straight for the demon's neck.

* * *

Gholen's were nasty enemies to fight. Large and mean, complete with oversized, flaming hands. However, they had no skill whatsoever. They were complete brutes.

One said demon roared a challenge at War, before charging at blinding speed with a shoulder charge.

War merely moved out of the way in a blur of motion. One second, he was there. The next - poof, off to the side and out of harm's way. War counterattacked.

In a maneuver that some would find impossible to pull off, War swung his blade in a upwards arc, bringing himself flipping up with it. Chaoseater, however, carved through the demon's skin while War was doing this. Now airborne, he then flipped himself _forwards_, with Chaoseater extended out in front of him. He kept flipping end over end, still with the sword outstretched, creating a buzz-saw like effect.

Multiple times, the blade cleaved into the Gholen's hard flesh as if it was butter. Multiple cuts, multiple lacerations.

The Gholen, fell to one knee, unable to take that much punishment. It had already suffered enough damage to some of War's whittling sword slashes.

War landed back on the ground, on his own two feet in fact. One would think that such a maneuver would take several seconds to recover from. Not so - War hit the ground and continued to attack, with quick sword slashes across the demons face.

It roared further in pain. But before it could rise to counterattack, War flung his blade up into the air, caught it reverse-handed, and brought it back down hard.

Chaoseater impaled the demon's hand - it could not move anymore.

War stepped forward several paces and brought up his massive left hand. Then he relentlessly whacked the thing in the face. Again and again, War backhanded and punched, utterly brutalizing the demon's already scared face.

The Gholen squealed in protest.

Then War punched its face in, a straight jab to the center of the thing's face. It squealed one last time.

Suddenly, the beating stopped.

The demon opened its eyes - War had disappeared!

Sudden pain told it otherwise. War merely went to retrieve his sword. But there was more to this action than at first glance.

War yanked Chaoseater hard, and then ran _up_ the creature's arm - all the way to the top and onto its back.

He jumped, brought up Chaoseater, and let gravity do the rest.

The blade cleaved clean through the demon's skull, bisecting it in half. Blood and brain fluid sprayed in copious amounts, drenching War in the monstrosity's life blood. War hopped off the demon, the Gholen dead.

War, however, slightly regretted his course of action, but only slightly. Sure, the Gholen was dead, but now he was drenched in blood and brains. Oh well, it could not be helped. Conflict, after all, was a messy business to dabble in.

"Jesus, War! Did you have to browbeat the damn thing?" called out a voice.

War turned to face Lazarus, who was giving him an amused look.

"Come on, dude. You gotta go at least a little easy on them," he laughed.

"Even during combat you converse and jest?" War asked.

"Yep. Otherwise, life would be boring, wouldn't it?"

War sighed. "You certainly are an unusual human. Left shoulder."

Lightning quick, Lazarus did a 180 degree spin. War almost did not see it happen. Somewhere behind him, Lazarus cut open a demon's chest. It toppled to the ground, writhing in pain. He brought the rifle down in a slow and exaggerated arc, before promptly placing a slug through the demon's head, execution style.

War shook his head. "Judging by what I just witnessed and by what you said, I have every right to call you a hypocrite."

He merely laughed. "Sure, give them a challenge, but don't let 'em win. Six 'o clock, buddy."

War quickly brought Chaoseater over his head, blocking an attack. He pushed backwards, sending the demon stumbling back. Then he brought out Mercy and whirled around, squeezing off three shots - or twelve if one was to consider each barrel. The demon toppled over, its face a gory, bullet-ridden mess.

"See, that's what I'm talking about - ya kill them way to quickly. Come on - have fun! Live a little!" he laughed.

"Fun does not have a place on the battlefield," War replied, ever stoic.

Some of the demons could not believe their ears. The two were having an argument about wether or not to have fun during combat. Indeed, it was a ridiculous situation.

"You see, War..." Lazarus said as he sliced apart another demon with a stylish flourish.

"...it's all about style!"

And cue the deadpan moment.

"Style?" War asked unbelievably, raising a silver eyebrow. Some demons in earshot had similar expressions on their face - if one was a mind reader, something along the lines of "Seriously?" passed through their minds.

"Are you serious?" War asked.

"Absolutely!" he said with a laugh.

"For example, if you do the same thing over and over again, it kind of - woah!"

Before he had his head lopped off, Lazarus quickly ducked underneath a horizontal swipe and rolled away.

A growl came to Lazarus' ears. "You talk to much, human."

He got back up to his feet. "Maybe so, but isn't it rude to interrupt someone while they're talking?"

"Shut up!" it roared, charging at him with another horizontal swipe. Lazarus backflipped over the weapon with ease. When he landed, he brought up his left rifle and fired three booming shots.

Two large holes bored into the demon's chest. A third cut clean through its skull.

Another roar came to Lazarus' left. He whipped the same rifle towards the noise and pulled the trigger.

_Click!_

"Huh?"

_Click! Click!_

"Ah, Shit!"

He quickly brought up the rifle - just in time too.

_CLANG!_

Sparks flew as the blade on the rifle collided with the demon's weapon.

The two warriors pushed against each other - a deadlock. But Lazarus was not as strong as this demon. In fact, this one was not the common Phantom Guard. While it was similar in body, the demon was much larger than the Guards, as was its weapon. It was much taller than Lazarus - it even towered over War. With cloven hooves and two horns on its head, this demon was clad in thick armor from head to foot and wielded a large axe.

It laughed at him. "I don't understand how my men can have so much difficulty with just two puny humans," it said. "You don't seem to be all that tough, especially since you seem to have run out of ammunition." It was the commander of this whole force of demons.

Lazarus grit his teeth, pushing as hard as he could.

"What? No witty remark?"

"Yeah, actually," Lazarus said through grit teeth. "You should watch your back."

_CRACK!_

The commander grunted loudly in pain as a high velocity round slammed into his armor, but the bullet did not penetrate - however, the demon did back off for several seconds, giving Lazarus some breathing room.

But this act only seemed to anger the demon. In a fit of rage, the commander recovered and retaliated, swinging his axe in a horizontal arc.

Quickly, Lazarus rolled away from the swipe. But he did not stop there - he exited his roll with several flips backwards, attempting to put some distance between his new adversary. He ended up right next to War.

"One of my rifles is empty," Lazarus announced, holstering his left rifle. He know wielded his right rifle two-handed - he flicked a small switch on the rifle, changing the firing modes from semi-auto to pump-action.

Lazarus sighted down his rifle and pulled the trigger.

_BOOM!_

The shot screamed straight for the commander's head. The demon brought up his axe to his head, broadside facing forward. The slug slammed into the weapon, causing it to slap the commander in the face. With a pained grunt, the commander clutched his face.

Working the pump with a _click!-clack!_, Lazarus ejected the empty shotgun shell and brought a new sabot slug into the chamber. Lazarus pressed his advantage and advanced, weapon up and booming.

Meanwhile, War having heard Lazarus' statement, decided to do the human a favor. He reached down to grab Mercy, but was interrupted when a Guard came rushing at him. Quickly, War brought up his massive left hand and blocked the weapon that came down on him - _hard._ The demon did not stop there though - it kept pushing hard, attempting to drive War down into submission, making for an easy kill. Its goal would prove to be a challenging one.

Grunting with exertion, the two warriors pushed against each other, with War attempting to end the deadlock. This demon was, however, proving to be particularly tenacious. War was definitely stronger than a Phantom Guard, but this one was being stubborn.

Both warriors pushed against each other - back and forth the two went, participating in a reverse tug-of-war.

Then, after a bit of effort - and due to the fact that the demon was beginning to tire, War was beginning to push the demon back. Realizing this, almost instantly, the demon redoubled its efforts, attempting to prolong its life however longer it could. But to no avail. With the demon's strength now diminished, War had the demon down to a knee in no time.

Before War could pull of a killing blow_ -_

_CRACK!_

- the demon's head snapped violently to the side - a gout of blood and brain matter shooting out of neat little hole in the side of the demon's head. It slumped over, dead.

At first, War was perplexed at what happened. But then it came to him - the female sniper.

War paused.

'_Ah yes...the woman with the rifle. It looks like I owe her a debt of gratitude. Albeit I did have the situation under control.'_

Then, suddenly, Lazarus came flying from out of the sky, crashing into the ground next to him.

In a daze, Lazarus shook his head, trying to clear the cobwebs that had just now taken hold of his mind.

"Woah. That guy's a tenacious bastard."

Lazarus brought his legs up to his chest and flipped himself up onto his feet.

"Hey War, I might need your help with this one," he said while reloading his rifle. He had run out of magazines for his rifles, so now he was doing the standard method of reloading a shotgun - one shell at a time.

War, however, did not reply.

"War?"

Lazarus stopped reloading and turned around. War was staring off into the distance.

"Uh, Earth to War. Come in, War!"

War snapped out of his reverie. "What is it, Lazarus?"

"You know, it usually isn't a good idea to space out in the middle of a battle. Tends to get a guy killed."

"My apologies," War said, pulling out Mercy and blasting several demons that was getting a bit close to the two.

"Who is that woman up on the hill?" War queried.

"Don't you worry who that is right now," Lazarus said while finishing reloading. "You'll meet her soon enough," he finished, cocking the weapon.

_CRACK!_

Much to Lazarus' surprise, the bullet his cohort had fired whizzed right past his head - and into the head of another Guard that was sneaking up on him.

He blinked several times, unsure of what happened.

He turned around and noted the dead demon with the hole in its head. The Hell-spawn was practically right behind him.

Lazarus dumbly stood there for several seconds before registering what happened - then he started to laugh uncontrollably.

"Why do I hear laughter coming from you, Lazarus?" War asked, who was busy fighting off another demon. He got his answer when the human let out a yell.

"Whoooo! That was a close one! Way to go Dinah!

* * *

Looking down on the battle through the scope of her rifle, the woman gave a small smile. She could see Lazarus down in the center of it all with War. He was vigorously celebrating her kill (and he rightly should - she just saved his life), waving his rifle in the air. Although she could not hear what he was saying, she could make out what he was saying by reading his lips.

"Way to go Dinah!"

A small smile came to her lips. It was typical of Lazarus to celebrate something in the middle of a battle. It almost seemed like he was short-minded sometimes. Almost. And sometimes, it did not even matter if he was laughing his ass off in the middle of a fight - the man seemed to have a sixth sense most of the time.

But, of course, those few moments that Lazarus did not see something coming was when she was there (most likely not in person) watching his back.

And anything that threatens Lazarus' well being that she sees ends up being removed with extreme prejudice, and done so without any hesitation.

The only time she has ever hesitated in that regard was when War showed up, and even then, War turned out to be some much welcomed, although unexpected, help.

The demon that was sneaking up on Lazarus was one such example of her watchfulness. And it ended up paying for its actions with its life.

Suddenly, Dinah remembered something very important. _'Was that bullet the fourteenth or fifteenth one?'_

She ejected the magazine from her rifle and caught it before it hit the ground. She checked it.

Empty.

She put the magazine back and pulled the charging handle on the rifle back, peering inside the chamber.

Empty as well.

'_Then that was my last bullet. I'm completely out of ammo now. Well, for this rifle at least.'_

She looked over her shoulder. Behind her, laying on the ground several feet away, was a large, green duffel bag.

'_I could use that rifle, but it's only used on either high-value targets or really dangerous demons.'_

She looked through the rifle's scope, checking on the two down below. The duo was back in action. While War was dealing with the majority of the demons, Lazarus was squaring off against their commander - what she considered as a high-value target. However, Lazarus was actually holding his own against the Hell-spawn. It would take a while, but eventually, Lazarus would bring it down.

And besides, the rifle in the duffel bag had limited ammunition for it, unlike her primary weapon. And even then, if the other gun was used on anything other than something smaller than an elephant, then it would be overkill.

So, it was all up to Lazarus and War now. The two would no longer receive her support. The only thing she could do now was watch and wait - and pray that Lazarus, as always, would come out on top.


	5. Chapter 5

**Author's Note:** Ladies and gentlemen, I'm finally back with a new chapter for you folks. Now I know that it took me a while, but I did warn you folks about that. For the curious, I'll explain why. First of all, about two weeks ago, I graduated from high school - the last month of school was busy with a lot of assignments and testing, so I really couldn't work on this and my much more important school work at the same time.

Secondly, I was just starting the chapter when the last month of school came around. And thirdly, I was hit with several instances of writer's block. I hope that clears things up with some of you guys. I don't want this to look like that I've abandoned the story - trust me, I haven't. I have invested a lot of thinking and time into the plot of this story, so it's going to get done.

And lastly, this major battle that you folks have been reading is nearly over - it's just this one and Ch. 6, which I have yet to start working on. I fear that I have dragged this conflict on for too long, so I'm going to bring it to a close.

One last thing. I'm not exactly a funny guy. To be honest, I try to put some comedy in my work, but I don't think that I'm very successful. This chapter is a perfect example of this - in the last part of this chapter, I tried to lighten the mood a little bit, but considering the situation that our heroes and heroine are in (which you will soon see for yourselves), I'm probably making things a little stupid. So I would appreciate it if you folks would be the judge of my humor.

With all that out of the way, do whatever it is that makes you comfy and enjoy the read.

**Additional Author's Note - 10/12/10: **Ladies and gents, I edited this chapter. The reason: I didn't like the end of it. The horrible humor is still there, but I changed the last part a bit and added some more. So go ahead and reread this chapter.

I've also got something else for you folks. Chapter Six is finished and ready to be posted. It'll be up and online Friday. Also, I apologize if there are any grammatical errors in this replacement chapter. When I brought the file over from my hardrive to the website, a bunch of weird things popped up in the text. I got rid of most of them, but I suspect that I may have missed a few. If you guys find any, I'd appreciate it if you'd let me know.

* * *

The demonic commander charged at Lazarus at full speed, the large axe ready to swing and cleave the human in two. But the demon's charge was not without scrutiny. Lazarus held his ground, his rifle up to his shoulder and booming. With each pull of the trigger, Lazarus worked the pump, chambering a new slug.

_BOOM!_

_Click-clack!_

_BOOM!_

_Click-clack!_

Again and again, Lazarus sent a sabot slug screaming downrange. The demon's armor rendered it protected against most weapons fire, including Lazarus' slugs. However, the Hell-spawn's face was unarmored, leaving it vulnerable to a fatal head shot.

So with each slug that rocketed out of the barrel, Lazarus made it so that each slug would pierce cleanly into the demon=s skull. However, the commander was not willing to give Lazarus an easy victory.

While in full sprint, the commander did its best to avoid the storm of gunfire. Sporadic movement was the name of the game as the demon dodged left, right, even rolling several times. The demon knew his vulnerability.

But eventually, the wall of sabot slugs had to come to an end.

_Click!_

Upon hearing this, Lazarus knew that his rifle was empty. He did not even bother trying to reload, especially not in the current situation that he was in. And besides, he had just ran out of ammo completely. No more guns. Now he had to fight the old fashioned way. He steeled himself for close-quarters combat.

The commander, upon seeing this, renewed his charge with fanatical fervor, roaring as he went. There would be no more bullets to impede his progress.

In a matter of seconds, the demon closed the distance between him and Lazarus. The moment he was within swinging range, the commander swung hard, intending to chop the human in half.

Lazarus merely back flipped over the swipe, the weapon flying by harmlessly.

The attack left the commander vulnerable for several seconds - now was Lazarus's chance to strike.

Quickly after landing back on the ground, Lazarus dashed forward. Now several feet apart, Lazarus attacked the only part of the body that was exposed - the head - with the rifle fully extended forward, about to skewer his adversary's skull. But he underestimated the demon's recovery time and reflexes.

The demon brought up his right hand and grabbed the weapon before the blade could cause any harm. Lazarus tried to pry the rifle free from the demon's grip, but it was vice-like. Then he tried something else. He quickly drew his sidearm - the pistol with the small bayonet - and aimed straight for the commander's head. At that range, the demon would not have the chance to evade.

But before Lazarus could squeeze off a shot, he let go of his rifle and rolled out of the way of a vicous downward swipe of the commanders axe. But that created a problem for the commander - he swung his axe so hard that it embedded itself into the ground. With one hand still holding Lazarus' rifle, he tugged and tugged, attempting to remove the weapon from the grass and dirt.

Interestingly enough, Lazarus backed off and just stood there, watching with a mocking smirk plastered on his face.

"You gotta be kidding me!" he yelled out with a laugh.

The demon stopped tugging on his weapon and looked up, glaring at Lazarus.

"I can't believe that someone like you would make such a rookie mistake!"

In response to Lazarus' teasing, the commander flung the human's rifle at him. Like a bullet that the weapon itself fired, it flung from the demon's hand - blade end first.

Lazarus, amazingly enough, held his ground. At the last second, right before his own weapon sliced his head open like a loaf of bread, Lazarus twitched his head to the right - the rifle missed him by inches.

Then, in a blur of motion, Lazarus whirled around and grabbed the speeding rifle right out of the air. Using the momentum of the rifle to his advantage, he whirled himself around again and charged full speed.

The commander, seeing this, hastened his efforts to dislodge his weapon from the ground. With several mighty tugs, the weapon came free. In the several seconds it took to finally recover the weapon, the human was within striking range.

The demon quickly lashed out with the axe. But the human did something that it did not ever anticipate. Lazarus jumped up _onto _the axe and then jumped up to his head. Before the demon could react, pain lanced through his right shoulder as Lazarus impaled his rifle at the base of the neck, sticking out vertically.

The human had noticed a small chink in the demon's armor and exploited it. Now the human was holding on to his rifle - but he was just hanging there, his feet up against the demon's chest plate.

The commander pushed the pain away so that he could deal with this pest. But when he realized what the human was actually doing, he stopped cold.

There the human was, holding onto his weapon and feet planted against his armor. If the commander was not about to die, then he would almost find the human's posture humorous - he kind of looked like a monkey. But the human looked much more insane than a monkey. With his blood-splattered clothing and a malevolent smile on his face, the human was aiming the very same pistol that he whipped out earlier at his face.

"I win."

And then Lazarus jammed the bayonet straight into the commander's face, aiming straight for the left eye. The demon roared in pain as his vision halved and blood poured from the injury. Then, Lazarus pulled the trigger.

The gunshot echoed across the battlefield. The demon soldiers closest to their commander saw their leader topple right before their eyes. They stared on in total disbelief. If it was War, then it would be understandable. But no - their leader was killed by a physically inferior human, armed with two empty shotguns and a pistol.

As for Lazarus, he rode the monstrosity straight to the ground, the impact and dust cloud not fazing him. With deliberate slowness, he removed his pistol from the dead commander's face and removed the rifle from the neck wound, and slowly rose to full height. Since he was standing on the demon's chest, he stood taller than the rest of the crowd by a foot or two. He noticed several large, hulking, and foreboding bodies slowly making their way towards him. At the moment, though, Lazarus did not really care.

Then he noticed that all the demons nearby were staring at him, awestruck. For some reason, it made Lazarus angry.

"What the hell are you fuckers staring at, huh?" he yelled out. He stepped down from the body. "Are you guys going to keep staring at me like retards, or are you actually gonna fight me?"

That elicited exactly the kind of reaction Lazarus wanted. All of the demons nearby - of which Lazarus guessed to be around a dozen - quickly surrounded him, now taking caution into account.

Lazarus gave out a laugh at this, and smiled that same, malevolent grin that he gave the commander.

"Now that's better. You guys are actually being careful now, instead of blindly throwing yourselves at me like angry fanatics." He started to look around him and walked around the dead body in a circle.

"This might actually get interesting."

Lazarus holstered his sidearm and drew his other rifle, once more going akimbo.

"Now come on!"

* * *

Dinah looked on. Through the scope of her rifle, she saw the recent victory over the enemy commander. Through the scope, she could see Lazarus being surrounded on all sides - and yet, he did not seem to care. He was continually walking around in a circle, sizing up the competition. The thought occurred to Dinah that the "competition" would need to step things up a bit if they wanted to bring down Lazarus.

Suddenly, an earth-shaking roar rolled across the battlefield, chilling the blood in her veins mid-heartbeat. She had heard that kind of roar before. And every time that she did, she had wished she hadn't.

She angled her rifle towards the sound, peered through the scope, and was met with the sight that she was expecting and not expecting at the same time - Traumas, and a lot of them.

Eight of the monstrosities were walking in a pack - straight towards Lazarus and War, the demons in their wake giving them a wide berth. It was obvious what their intentions were.

Dinah and Lazarus have fought Traumas before. The massive demons _could_ be dealt with, even for just two humans. But the reason why the duo had won every fight against a Trauma before was that there was only one or two of them. And that the two humans concentrated an _extreme_ amount of firepower on a single Trauma simultaneously.

And by _"extreme,"_ she needed things like missiles, explosives, fifty-caliber machine guns and rifles, and plenty of ammunition to go around. Hell, even a tank would do the trick.

But she had none of that at her disposal - except for one.

Dinah turned her back towards the battlefield and walked briskly towards the duffle bag sitting on the ground. She set her rifle down on the ground and proceeded to unzip the bag -

- to reveal one _big_ gun.

_'Well, it is an emergency.'_

With some effort, she hoisted the weapon up and carried it into an optimal position for firing. It was a heavy rifle for her to fire while she was holding it, but that was why it came with a bipod. While she could use the weapon while standing, the bipod maximized her potential accuracy.

The weapon easily overshadowed her other rifle. With a long range telescopic scope that could magnify targets up to a mile away, the rifle fired fifty-caliber, hollow-point rounds that were powerful enough to punch through armor, but not powerful enough to penetrate completely through a body. The purpose of this was to maximize damage from the expanding of the bullet once it entered a body, so as to cause extensive damage to living tissue. In addition, the rifle could fire many different bullet types, such as armor-piercing rounds, but the current type was all that Dinah had on hand.

She extended the bipod and set the rifle down on the ground, now having a stable firing position. She laid herself down on the ground next to the rifle, pressed the stock against her shoulder, and peered through the scope. She focused solely on one of the Traumas - and that was now her only worry. The Phantom Guards stopped coming long ago. The soldier demons seemed much more interested in an enemy in which they could actually get within striking range.

_'Well, here goes.'_

With an inhale, and then an exhale, Dinah relaxed her whole body. She squeezed the trigger.

* * *

"So who's going to be first, huh?"

Lazarus was still squaring off against the group of demons who had witnessed their commander's defeat. But he had heard the deafening roar as well. And currently, he was in no shape to deal with a Trauma. Physically, yes he could challenge one, but it would prove to be a very difficult task to accomplish without any ammunition available. Especially since almost every other demon on the battlefield wanted a piece of him. Almost.

Suddenly, an ear-splitting _BOOM!_ ripped through the air - Dinah at work.

_'Well, it seems like Dinah is bringing out the big guns. And if she's using that rifle, then there must be a good reason why. I might have to deal with whatever it is she's shooting at.'_

He looked around, thinking (aside from his main thought, he was surprised that he was even getting the chance to stop and think for several seconds. '_These demons are either really scared or really stupid.'_).

If what Dinah was firing at was a Trauma, as Lazarus suspected, then he would have to deal with this current pack of demons quickly. It took a lot to take one down, even with a fifty-caliber rifle. Plus, he remembered that Dinah had limited ammo for that rifle. So that meant he would have to step in and give a helping hand. And if the Trauma decided to break off from the rest of the group and head straight for her, then he would have no choice then - Lazarus would have to intervene for Dinah's safety.

_'But I'll cross that bridge when I get there. As for these retards who seem to like twiddling their thumbs, I have to deal with them first.' _So far, none had stepped forward to challenge the human. Their caution was bordering on paranoia, and it was beginning to annoy Lazarus.

"Oh, come on. Now you guys are just getting ridiculous. I'm not _that_ scary."

He looked around once more. The demons were still on guard, with each one seeming to be reluctant to be the first one to engage.

Lazarus sighed. "Seriously? None of you want to be the first? Well that's boring."

He paused, and looked around once more. This time though, he felt a presence behind him - Lazarus, however, did not turn around.

"Then it looks like that I'm going to have to get you guys -"

He whipped himself around with blinding speed and charged forward. "- FIRST!"

Lazarus jammed the blade end of his right rifle into the chest of a Guard - the presence he felt behind him.

"You sneaky bastard!" laughed Lazarus. Then he ruthlessly twisted the rifle and yanked the weapon sideways, ripping through the demon's chest. It toppled to the ground, bleeding profusely with a massive laceration through its chest. For all intents and purposes, the demon was as dead as its commander.

"Ok, I'll admit, that was a pretty decent try. But I think you guys have to step it up a bit if you want to bring me down."

Lazarus should have kept the thought to himself. As if on cue - as if each demon in the circle had the same plan for such a response - every Guard came rushing at Lazarus _all at once._

Lazarus, albeit a tad bit worried by this simultaneous maneuver, held his ground calmly.

_'Ah fuck. Me and my big mouth.'_

But Lazarus did have a plan to escape this - it just required him to have a level head in this sticky situation.

_'Wait for it . . .'_

From their previous distance from Lazarus - of which he estimated to be about twenty feet away - the demons closed the distance quickly. None of them had their weapons ready. Lazarus deduced that their goal was to pin him down and restrain him, then have one of them finish him off.

_'Aaaaaand . . .'_

Almost right before the circle closed in on him, Lazarus made his move.

_'Now!'_

In a move that average humans could not do, Lazarus _jumped_ high above the group. All of the demons comically crashed into one another.

Some toppled to the ground where they stood. The rest stumbled several feet back from their shared impact point - stunned. Lazarus landed several feet away and watched with amusement.

And then, something happened that added to the demon's painful conundrum. _Another_ Guard came flying from out of nowhere, zooming past Lazarus. Like a bowling ball, this demon slammed into the group - knocking them all over like oversized bowling pins.

War came walking up next to the human.

"Why is it that you seem to end up in these precarious situations?" War asked.

"Hey, it's not my fault that everyone wants a piece of me," Lazarus irritably replied. "But then again, with these guys, I was kind of asking for it."

War looked at Lazarus and blinked. "You actually asked these demons to assault you?"

"Not literally. But by the way I was acting, I might as well have been."

War slightly shook his head. "You are indeed a strange human."

Lazarus gave War an amused look. "Tell me War. Are we - as in me and Dinah - the only humans that you have seen?"

"No."

Some of the demons have begun to slowly recover from their interesting situation. Surprisingly enough, there were no injuries amongst the group, aside from the obvious pain of crashing into one another and being bombarded by one of their own. There were even several Guards up on their feet and ready for more action. However, their attention was not fixed on Lazarus nor War.

"Well, what if my personality was actually the norm for humans?" Lazarus went on.

"Lazarus, I am not as ignorant about human behavior as you think. I have seen enough human behavior to know what 'normal' is. And you are certainly not normal for many different reasons.

"In fact," continued War, "most humans would consider being attacked by demons to be very frightening, even for the warriors of your kingdom."

_'What does he mean by kingdom?'_ thought Lazarus.

"And yet, you have shown no fear whatsoever. And you seem to - "

"As interesting a point that you make, War," interrupted Lazarus. "I now have a question."

"And what is that?"

Lazarus turned his head to glare at the group of demons, as if they had done something that they should not have. "WHY HAVE WE NOT BEEN . . . ATTACKED . . . yet?"

Instead of seeing the "crash dummies," Lazarus' eyes met the sight of powerfully massive legs; met the sight of calloused skin and thick armor; met the sight of devastatingly powerful forearm claws married with ferocious brutality.

"Oh shit," whimpered Lazarus. "We're so fucked.

"Fucked?" asked War.

"I.E.: we . . . are . . . dead . . . "

Lazarus looked up to behold not one, not two, but _eight_ Traumas - one of which was bleeding heavily from multiple bullet wounds and was stubbornly holding onto life. It was a wolf-pack of sheer destruction, both being received and ready to dish out. And all eight of them were eyeing Lazarus and War with lethal intent. Interestingly enough, they had not attacked yet, which Lazarus, despite his extreme fear, found to be very curious.

"Uh . . . were you guys waiting on us to finish our little conversation?" asked Lazarus.

The lead Trauma, covered in war paint to signify authority and power with its pack, merely gave a huff in reply.

The human turned his head to War. "I think that was a yes."

War was about to say something, but Lazarus cut him off. "Hold on to whatever thought you have and wait a couple of seconds."

Lazarus returned his attention back towards the certain death that was staring him in the face.

"Could you guys wait for a little bit? I want to talk with my partner for a sec."

The lead Trauma gave a growl in reply, but it did not make any move against the human.

Lazarus blinked several times, unsure of what that meant. "Was that a yes or a no?"

It growled louder this time.

"Ok, ok! I'll make this quick!"

Lazarus turned to War - the duo turned to put some distance between their new enemies. "Holy shit! He's actually waiting on us – he's either really polite or really confident that he'll win."

"Lazarus - focus."

"Yeah. Right. Of course - Mr. Tall and Scary and all his buddies are raring to cut us up into little meaty ribbons. So what's the plan?"

War's glowing blue eyes scanned their surroundings. The normal soldier demons formed an extremely wide and large circle around the wolf-pack and the two combatants - a makeshift arena, with the boundaries being live demons that would not hesitate to chop up War and Lazarus if the duo got too close.

"The Phantom Guards have ceased their attack on us," War said. "It appears that the Traumas are going to be our only opponents. How much ammunition does your cohort have?

"Only several mags for her current rifle," replied Lazarus, fear no longer present and seriousness in control of his emotions. "She can't provide us much help with that big gun of hers. One of the Traumas has a lot of holes in it, so I wager that she's nearly out of ammo."

Lazarus glanced at the wounded Trauma and said: "You thinking what I'm thinking?"

"That you attack the wounded demon? Yes."

"What about you? What are you going to do?"

"I will perform a transformation that will make the fight easier for us."

"You can transform?" asked Lazarus incredulously. "Into what?"

"A demonic-like being. However, I am unsure how long I can maintain the transformation. I could potentially kill three, maybe four of them. Then we will have to dispatch the remaining Traumas under normal conditions.

"All right, got it. Then let's go."

"Wait, Lazarus."

"What?"

War reached down to his waist and removed Mercy from its holster. War flipped the four-barreled revolver around and offered the grip to Lazarus.

"Would I be correct to assume that you have run out of ammunition?"

Upon seeing the offering being made before him, Lazarus could not help but smile. "For the most part, yeah. My sidearm still has some rounds in it though."

He reached out and grabbed the weapon, giving it a good heft to judge the weight. It was big for him and a little on the heavy side, but he would learn to work with it. It is not every day that someone is given a quad-barreled handgun. Then something occurred to Lazarus.

"Wait. You're just going to give me the gun? What about ammo?"

"There is no need. Mercy, for a reason that I cannot surmise, never runs out of ammunition."

Lazarus eyes grew to dinner plates and a smile appeared on his face. He looked down at the gun in his hands. "Infinite ammo?" He barked out a joyful laugh. "How freakin' sweet is that?"

War merely gave a nod in acknowledgment.

"Right. Now, one last thing Lazarus. Before I transform, I'll give you a boost up to the upper body of the wounded Trauma."

"And how exactly are you going to do that?" asked Lazarus.

War blinked for a second. "By throwing you."

Lazarus frowned. "I'm not a bloody projectile, for Christ's sake. What makes you think that idea would work?"

"Because I am planning on using you as a distraction."

Irritated, Lazarus deepened his frown and promptly flipped War the bird. "Fuck you. And screw your plan. I've got another one."

Almost imperceptibly, War gave a small half-smile in amusement. The smile vanished just as quickly as it came. "What do you have in mind?"

"From what I understand, you're one of the horsemen of the Apocalypse, right?"

As if in response to the human's question, the ground next to War erupted into flames as Ruin seemed to burst forth from subterranean depths. Both horse and rider glanced at Lazarus, as if to say "Does that answer your question?"

"Neat little light show," Lazarus quipped. "Does he do tricks too?"

This time, horse and rider exchanged looks, as if the two were deciding what to say in response.

Then War looked back at Lazarus and said, "Of course. In fact, one of his 'tricks' involves one of his hooves coming in contact with your face."

Lazarus laughed in response. "Ouch." Then the human approached the phantom steed. Ruin's eyes followed the human until he stopped just short of the horse. Lazarus looked the stallion up and down and right to left.

"How fast can he run?" he asked.

"Compared to our enemies, Ruin is unrivaled," replied War. "Whenever I am riding him, nothing can catch up to us. It is when he is unburdened from a rider, however, that his true speed can be fully used."

Upon hearing his master's praise, Ruin proudly straitened himself to his full height. The horse closed its eyes and snorted, as if to gloat.

War paused. He tilted his head in a questioning manner. "Why?"

Lazarus glanced at War, then glanced back at Ruin. "I'm going to ride him."

Instantly, Ruin's eyes flew open in alarm, snapping his head to glare at Lazarus.

War, however, did not look so shocked. The Horseman glanced at Ruin, gauging the horse's reaction. "I do not think he would allow that," he said to Lazarus.

"Also, I do not want you to ride him either."

"Oh, relax you two. I used to ride horses all the time when I was a kid."

"Ruin is no ordinary horse," War countered.

_'Gee, I wonder why?' _thought Lazarus, although he kept that comment to himself. With a sigh, the human said: "Listen, I need Ruin's mobility for this. You are far superior to me. Thus, you're able to go toe-to-toe against Traumas.

"I, however, am a different story. If one of those guys manage to get close to me, fighting these dudes will prove to be rather difficult. One Trauma will be hard to fight. All eight of them in close quarters combat will be downright suicidal.

"Also . . . " The human held up Mercy. "As impressive as this is, I don't think this revolver on steroids will do the trick."

"Therefore," he paused, lightly patting Ruin on the horses side and causing the phantom steed to fidget in place. "if I want to win, hit-and-run is my best bet."

With that said, Lazarus stopped talking to allow War to respond.

The Horseman did not immediately reply. He mulled over the points Lazarus presented, and he was right with all of them. But that left one question: how was Lazarus going to be helpful fighting this way? With only his empty rifles and Mercy, the human would not cause much damage against these demons. Probably, at best, he would be a good distraction. At worst, he would be a nuisance and simply be ignored.

"Then what will you do?" War asked.

"Ah! I'm glad you asked that, my apocalyptic friend!" Lazarus said, raising a finger in excitement.

"You see, me 'stealing' your horse actually has some significance. I'm not just gonna do hit-and-run attacks – I'm going to be the bait."

"For what?"

"You," the human replied, quickly pointing his raised finger at War. He raised a white eyebrow in confusion.

"And how exactly do I factor into this plan and how do you plan to even make the demons follow you?"

"Allow me to answer that question, with another question. Do you consider demons to be prideful?"

The Horseman nodded in response. "Of course. Some are arrogant as well. In fact, I tend to use that against them sometimes."

And then the lightbulb went on in War's head. "You are planning to use that against them as well."

"Exactly," Lazarus replied with a smirk. "I've fought enough demons to somewhat understand them. They've all got an ego bigger than their fuckin' heads. But it's the big ones that that think that they're invincible. Indeed, what demon in their right mind would believe that a mere human would have the gall to attack something three times his size? Once the surprise wears off, they're gonna get pissed!"

War nodded, impressed. But Lazarus was not finished. "And that is where you come into play."

"Once your buddy and I have a fresh fish on the hook," Lazarus finished, once more patting Ruin. "it'll be your job to be the butcher, while Ruin and I run circles around our quarry inflicting additional damage."

"Ah, I see," said War, at last understanding the bigger picture. "Your strategy involves picking them off one by one."

"A-ring-a-ding-ding."

"But what if you, how do you say, get more than one fish on the hook?" War questioned.

"Then it looks like you're gonna have to go Incredible Hulk on their asses."

"Incredible . . . Hulk?"

"You know – get mad. Get angry! Stick it to the man! Be wrathful!"

War then understood what the human meant. But he decided to play dumb just to have some fun with his ally. He still kept his eyebrow raised.

Lazarus sighed. "Your transformation, jackass."

"Hmmmm." Intentionally, War exaggerated the look of understanding on his face. The human did not miss a thing. Again, a middle finger was pointing skyward.

"Any other questions, wise guy?"

"Yes, actually. What if they do not follow you?"

"Uh . . . " Lazarus floundered, unable to come up with a backup plan.

After several seconds, he said "Well if they don't chase after little ol' me, then we'll just have to attack them directly. And I really, _really_, don't want to do that.

"Agreed."

With the attack plan now devised, Lazarus turned to the phantom horse that was standing idle, listening to their completed conversation.

"Now, Ruin, if you don't mind."

It was obvious of what the human wanted. And the horse did mind. Quite a lot, in fact. The horse internally refused to allow a total stranger, and a human at that, to ride him - professed skill with horseback riding be damned.

But before the horse could even do anything, in one fluid motion, Lazarus effortlessly mounted the saddle. He was quick about it too - Lazarus suspected some stubbornness from Ruin, so he did not give the horse a chance to unseat him. Then the human produced a sharp kick to the horse's side, causing Ruin to rear back on his hind legs and neigh in surprise, making an attempt to remove his new rider. No luck - Lazarus was glued to the saddle, firmly holding the reins.

And then Ruin shot off on the mark. He did not accept his new rider – not yet. The phantom steed would give this human a trial by fire – he would see if Lazarus was worthy enough to ride one of the four horses of the apocalypse.


	6. Chapter 6

**Author's Note: **Timestamp: 11:10 PM - Friday. Although a little late, I still got this posted in time of my announcement.

By the way, if any of you haven't reread Chapter 5, I suggest that you do so before you read this chapter. I changed the plot a bit when I reposted Chapter 5, so if you've read the first version, then this chapter will make little sense to you.

As always, make yourself comfortable and enjoy.

* * *

Once again, she had run out of ammunition. Once again, Dinah looked on and watched – no longer able to be of any assistance to Lazarus and War. After all, four magazines with five bullets in each could only accomplish so much.

To her credit though, she did manage to heavily wound one of the Traumas.

The battlefield had changed now. Instead of the two being surrounded on all sides, they now had a lot of breathing room. The soldier demons of the horde had formed a massive circle around them, allowing for ample fighting room for all combatants involved. But this was done only to accommodate the Traumas – in no way did the demons intend to help their enemy.

And right now, in a sudden burst of movement and flames, their enemy had made their move.

* * *

The first thing Lazarus noticed was speed. Ruin was unbelievably fast! Much faster than any other horse he had ridden before. The wind slapped into his face, blowing his shaggy hair about. He could feel the horse's powerful muscles at work underneath the saddle, spurring Ruin faster and faster, the horse snorting with exertion. Was this the horse's normal speed, or was the phantom steed putting on a show for Lazarus, perhaps attempting to intimidate the human somehow? Whatever the reason, Lazarus had only one response.

"YAAAAAAHOOOOO!" A manic grin formed on his face as he whooped with excitement, the speed giving him an adrenaline rush. He leaned forward along the horse's back, attempting to streamline his body. Lazarus recalled War saying that Ruin's true speed emerged whenever the horse was rider-less. It would seem that, after having a monster of a man like War riding atop him for however long the two have been working together, a mere human would bring out much of Ruin's mobility.

The distance between the Traumas and Ruin were nearly negligible – mere seconds elapsed before engagement commenced.

Like a rocket, Lazarus and Ruin zoomed underneath the legs of one of the Traumas, instantly turning heads. Lazarus gestured with the reins to turn left, but Ruin seemed to have other plans. Again, Lazarus made his intentions known. So did Ruin. The horse charged forward, the Traumas left in the dust and the wall of Phantom Guards looming ever closer. Seeing the soldier demons seemed to spurn the horse even faster onwards – it was intent on closing the distance with the demons as fast as possible.

The demonic lines tightened up, the soldier demons bracing for impact. That didn't stop Ruin though. The phantom horse slammed right into the demons, bowling over the enemies in the way and trampling the unfortunate ones underneath his hooves. And then, like a bronco, Ruin started bucking wildly, thrashing about and causing mayhem amongst the Guards. Lazarus held on tight to Ruin, hoping against hope that he would not fall off – in the middle of a demonic formation was not a good place to get bucked from a horse. But that is exactly what happened – with a final and mighty buck, Lazarus was flung from the saddle and crashed into the ground.

With a groan, Lazarus slowly got to his feet. Much to his dismay, Ruin left him to his fate, disappearing into the ground in a firestorm.

"Son of a bitch!" Lazarus exclaimed. And once again, the human found himself surrounded on all sides by Phantom Guards.

_'Goddamnit! I just got out of this mess!' _

With a frustrated sigh, Lazarus drew the rifle for his right hand, while holding Mercy in his left. The demons slowly closed in as one, preparing to attack. But before both Lazarus and the Guards could engage each other, suddenly, _BANG!_

The space behind Lazarus exploded outward as Ruin phased back into the physical realm. Lazarus was thrown clear off his feet by the force of the explosion, smashing into a Guard and both toppling to the ground. And without any provocation, Ruin started slaughtering the demons – left, right, and center.

Once again, Lazarus groaned. "Anyone get the license plate of that truck?" he asked, groggily. Then he realized who he was laying next too. Fortunately, the Guard was out cold with a gash on its head. He didn't care if the demon was alive or dead.

As he moved to get up, a Guard was suddenly sent flying over his head, screaming as he went. The human kept his gaze on the demon's flight, before he crashed into a fellow comrade.

Lazarus glanced back towards Ruin, the one no doubt responsible for that. He was still going at it, attempting to kill everything he saw – fortunately, Ruin was not facing his way.

"Well then," was all he said. Quickly, he got up and dusted himself of, as if he was not on a battlefield. He found his rifle and Mercy not far from him.

Once he retrieved his weapon and War's handgun, he turned back to look at Ruin – and nearly ran smack-dab into the horse. The steed's incendiary eyes stared into his, pinning him with a fiery glare. Lazarus just stood there, inches apart from Ruin's face, nearly scared shitless.

"What? What'd I do?"

The horse merely snorted black smoke in response, sending the smoke into Lazarus' face. The human coughed, waving away the smoke.

"Are you acting this way because I kicked you?

Another snort and another cough.

"Okay, that's strike one," he said after waving away the smoke again. "Are you pissed because you don't like the fact that I'm riding you?"

A positive response this time (or, at least, Lazarus thought it was a positive response) – Ruin whinnied.

"Well this was the only plan I could come up with in short order. What'd you expect me to do in this situation, go Rambo on these fuckers?"

Again, the horse whinnied.

'_Huh, that's interesting. War's horse knows who Rambo is.'_

"Okay, fine. I'm sorry. I should have asked permission first – not that you would have allowed that anyways."

With that, Lazarus moved to the horse's side, as if to mount him – but he did not do anything.

"Now, let's try this again. Ruin, do you object to me being your current rider in anyway?"

Ruin merely grunted in response.

"Not too sure what that was. I'm just going to assume that was a no. But do you at least trust me?" The phantom steed turned his head and glared at him, as if to say, "What do you think?" Lazarus merely shrugged.

"Take that as a no. Well too bad, because you're gonna have to – War can't take on all those baddies all by his lonesome."

Begrudgingly, the horse turned his head and decided to allow, just for this one time, to allow a stranger to be at the helm. After all, the human was right, at least partially.

With little effort, Lazarus mounted the saddle – Ruin made no action to dismount him. Now that Ruin was not trying to remove him, Lazarus became much more at ease in the saddle. The phantom steed may be bigger than any other kind of horse he had rode before, but Ruin was still a horse. Lazarus' body hugged the horse's frame once again.

"Ruin, you may not trust me," he said. "but by the end of today, rest assured, you will."

* * *

This was bad. He suspected that this would happen. Lazarus should not have even come up with the idea. The Horseman saw what happened when Ruin took off like a bat out of Hell – he plowed straight into enemy lines. He had no idea if that was intentional or Lazarus had lost control of the horse. Either way, his situation had just become worse.

Now War stood alone, without a gun and without a horse. The squad of Traumas now advanced upon a single target. They stayed in formation – but slowly and surely, the pack began to split apart. Their intentions were clear right away – surround him.

War had only few choices before hostilities openly began. Obviously, he had Chaoseater – no way would he willingly part with that. As always, the powerful weapon would prove to be invaluable. But that did not mean that the sword was his only method of waging war. He was equipped with a small arsenal's worth of weapons, which he would not hesitate to use.

But it would be his Chaos form that would be the saving grace here. Now that he had all his power back (being restored with the breaking of the seventh seal), he could, potentially, fight this entire battle transformed. However, it had been a very long time since he last accomplished that. Many of his abilities were like a muscle – in this case, the more he used Chaos form, the longer he could maintain the transformation. But there was a risk – if he overexerted himself, War could lose the ability to fight and become a sitting duck.

As the enemy drew closer, War concluded that his Chaos form would be used only as a final measure.

War was surrounded now. He drew his sword and readied himself. But just as the Traumas commenced their attack, something happened.

For the second time that day, a flaming mass blasted through the space between the legs of one the massive demons. It was Ruin, and sitting astride the saddle was Lazarus, whooping like a crazed warrior and firing Mercy as fast as he could pull the trigger.

_BANG!-BANG!-BANG!-BANG!-BANG!_

With each squeeze of the trigger, the four barrels of the handgun erupted with fire as multiple lead missiles rocketed out of the weapon.

Ruin came to a sliding stop by War. "Horseman, you better get the hell out of this death-trap before -"

An enraged roar assaulted their ears as a Trauma, having been riddled with a fusillade of bullets, charge at them, his sights dead set on Lazarus. The monstrosity was surprisingly quick for something so large – Ruin had only a second to evade.

The Trauma swiped downward – an explosion of grass and dirt erupted from where Ruin once stood as he leapt aside in the nick of time – War dive-rolled away. Lazarus, all the while, continued to perforate the demon's calloused skin.

Suddenly, War rushed forward, seizing the opportunity. Before the demon could pull away, War swung hard but quick, severing the offending arm below the elbow.

The Trauma bellowed in a mix of pain and anger. But apparently, cutting off an arm did not seem to be very painful for the monstrosity, as it immediately brought up a foot and attempted to crush War.

War quickly jammed Chaoseater into the ground.

And in response, a _massive_ sword erupted out of the ground in front of War and rocketed toward the Hell-spawn. The demon's armor-like skin did nothing to protect it from this attack as the blade punched clean through the skin and into the abdomen, blood erupting from the large wound – it doubled over. The Trauma's foot came down only on solid ground, its planned attack foiled.

War pulled Chaoseater back out of the ground – the massive blade that had spurted forth retracted as he did so. The Trauma fell to all fours, pain clearly evident in its features. In pained fury, it roared at him once more but was quickly silenced as Chaoseater was suddenly lodged right into the demon's forehead – War had thrown the weapon as if it were a spear.

Immediately, the Trauma collapsed to the ground. Its breathing suddenly stopped and its eyes stared blankly ahead.

The Horseman moved to retrieve his sword but was interrupted when another demon, angered by the death of his comrade charged forward, swinging its arms in lethal arcs.

War merely somersaulted backwards – evading the first swing altogether – before performing a completely inhuman dash backwards. It looked like he did not even move his feet to perform the maneuver.

War counterattacked.

From out of thin air it seemed, a large weapon formed in his hands in a flash of purple light. It looked menacing, and yet, at the same time, frail, as if it was about to fall apart at any moment. It was a gray color – ashy even. It looked demonic as well. Organic would be a good word to describe it. And yet, despite its delicate and strange appearance, it was powerful – very powerful. It pulsed with energy, in fact, a purplish aura surrounding it.

This weapon was the Harvester – the legendary scythe of the Grim Reaper himself.

War reared back and flung Death's scythe like a boomerang – like a bat out of Hell, it flew at a furious speed, as if the weapon was self-aware of its chosen target and resolved to end the enemy's life quickly.

Then War reached to the back of his waist and pulled out another weapon. It was big, which seemed to be the norm for War, but it was not nearly as big as some of his other weapons – indeed, it was small enough to fit into his right hand's grasp. It was, essentially, an oversized shuriken, with the blades curved. War had a name for the weapon, but he forgot what it was – he used the weapon so infrequently that it was no wonder that he forgot its designation. He threw that too.

While the scythe cleaved aside a place for it in the Trauma's torso, the throwing star – the Crossblade, War suddenly recalled – sliced its way into the demon's right eye.

Predictably, the Trauma started to thrash about, alarmed at the aspect of its vision suddenly halving. War seized the opportunity and charged forward. The Horseman summoned yet another weapon.

A blue light shimmered around his right arm – the light quickly formed a shape, before becoming a solid object. It was a gauntlet - and it was as large as War's left gauntlet. But this one was much more intimidating than the other one. The face of a bizarre demon took up the entirety of the back of the hand, complete with a set of eerie, red eyes. Various spikes and protuberances enhanced the frightening visual effect of the gauntlet.

Stopping just short of the Hell-spawn, War raised his right hand into the air – now encased within the powerful Tremor Gauntlet. Cerulean energy began to form around his fist, before speeding up and swirling around him at high speeds. And then, he brought the weapon down hard onto the ground.

Instantly, the Trauma began to wobble, its pain quickly forgotten as it tried to maintain balance. It didn't fall.

Again, War raised his fist into the air. Again, energy formed around him. Again, the Horseman brought the Gauntlet down to the ground with an almighty crash. But suddenly, War then raised his left gauntlet and hammered down repeatedly on the ground, alternating between hands.

Shockwave after shockwave after shockwave emanated from his position as if he was the epicenter of a powerful earthquake. Finally, the Trauma succumbed to the powerful forces War was unleashing. It fell to a knee and put its hands on the ground, transferring weight to its forward limbs.

Before the demon could do anything else, War was suddenly right there in front of it, the Tremor Gauntlet shaking with power. Without hesitation, the Horseman leaped upwards, bringing his right fist upwards and connecting with the Trauma's chin in a bone-jarring uppercut.

The raw power of the weapon was just simply too much to resist against. The Hell-spawn was sent sprawling backwards onto its back with a mighty crash.

But War was not finished yet. When he landed back on the ground, the Horseman leaped forward, landing on the toppled demon's chest. And then, War demonstrated a display of sheer brutality.

War raised both of his fists up into the air and repeatedly slammed down on the demon's chest. Wave after wave of blows rained down on one small part of the Trauma's armor-like hide. But no armor was impenetrable – eventually, with repeated stress, even the mightiest of armor can fail.

With a sickening crack, War caved in his enemy's chest. The demon's body elicited a violent spasm in response to the blow. It stopped moving, but it wasn't dead. It would take a truly debilitating blow to kill this kind of demon.

And that was exactly what he did.

Retrieving the Harvester, which was still embedded into the Trauma's chest – somehow unaffected by the thundering shockwaves of the Tremor Gauntlet – the First Horseman of the Apocalypse committed his execution.

Groggily, the Trauma raised its head to look down on its chest, only to have the scythe cut a clean swath through its skull. War could practically see the head split at the seams. The head just simply fell back to where it was in response. This time, the creature finally stopped moving. War could tell – the demon's torso, which he was still standing on, had stopped moving abruptly.

Two Traumas down, six more to go.

In a flash of purple light, the Harvester disappeared into thin air seemingly. Climbing up the dead corpse, he retrieved the Crossblade from Trauma's eye and returned it to his belt.

Turning around, he was surprised at the sight that beheld him.

Lazarus was still riding atop Ruin, the phantom steed doing a very good job at avoiding enemy attacks. The two were practically keeping all remaining demons busy single-handedly. The human was still firing Mercy like a madman. The familiar report that Mercy made echoed across the battlefield nearly constantly as bullets flew in almost every direction.

But at the same time, Lazarus was focusing his fire. Whenever he could, he would send a volley of fire in one particular direction, before quickly switching targets to ward off an attack. The demon that was receiving the concentrated fire was the one that had been wounded by the sniper a little while ago. While it still bore the large holes in its body from the sniper's work, numerous smaller wounds dotted across the demon's frame.

It was on its last leg, so to speak. The Trauma's movement was sluggish and slow, its breathing heavy.

Suddenly, Ruin charged towards this demon at a remarkable speed. Lazarus had stopped firing as well. Right before horse and demon collided with one another Lazarus drew one of his rifles and leapt off the saddle high into the air. Ruin, for his part, merely phased into the ground.

Unfortunately, Lazarus didn't jump high enough. But that's why he had the rifle. The human lodged the rifle into the demon's skin. With the bayonet acting as an anchor point and the rifle body itself acting as a springboard, Lazarus landed on the rifle, and then jumped higher. With seemingly little effort, Lazarus had vaulted from Ruin's saddle all the way up to the Trauma's head. For its part, the demon, either too weak to act or too surprised by the human's maneuvering, failed to act in time. A fatal mistake.

Landing on top of the demon's head, Lazarus aimed Mercy directly down and unleashed a torrent of metal. After several seconds of continuous fire, the Trauma finally gave in. With a final and pained roar, it dropped to its knees and fell sideways to the ground.

As the demon fell, Lazarus jumped off. Right as he was about to hit the ground, Ruin appeared out of the ground and caught him, effectively stopping the human's fall. He retrieved his rifle.

War was impressed – for several reasons. First was Lazarus. He must have exercised a lot of patience and fired a lot of bullets if he brought down that Trauma with only Mercy.

War was also impressed with the fact that Ruin was even working with the human. And it was because of this cooperation that the two had managed to completely distract all of the other Traumas, with only Ruin's speed and agility and Lazarus's usage of Mercy. No small feat.

At least part of their plan was working. Everything had, in a word, gone to Hell. While he had managed to kill two demons one after the other, they were still within close quarters of the entire pack. While Lazarus was performing remarkably well at being the distraction, he could tell that distracting all of them at once was not what he had planned. And eventually, Ruin would no longer be able to outpace the enemy. He had to do something. Now.

In a flash of cerulean light, the Tremor Gauntlet disappeared as well. Bringing up his right hand to his mouth, War gave out a long and shrill whistle.

A little ways away, Ruin, having just evading a potentially devastating swing from one Trauma, immediately reared up on his hind legs, turned, and set off at maximum speed in his direction. Lazarus, surprised with the horse's maneuver, ceased firing. One Trauma gave chase, albeit, it was much slower than the phantom steed.

War jumped off the corpse he was still standing on, and in mere seconds, Ruin skidded to a halt right beside him.

"Uh, War," Lazarus said. "Now isn't exactly the best time to have a powwow."

"Understandable," War said, addressing the human. "But I want you and Ruin to retreat from the battle."

Ruin merely snorted in acknowledgment, but Lazarus blinked in surprise. "What?"

He glanced back over his shoulder, seeing the onrushing Trauma close the distance. Lazarus was just about to protest when he suddenly remembered their backup plan. Turing his head back around to face War, Lazarus merely said: "If you say so," before motioning Ruin to continue his hasty retreat.

Without giving his ally another thought, he focused the entirety of his attention to one specific goal.

It was time to unleash Chaos.


	7. Chapter 7

**Author's Note:** I know I keep saying that I'm going to end the battle in the next chapter, but, apparently, I lied. I wanted to end it here, but I had a case of writer's block and couldn't find a way to smoothly bring an end to it without making some things sound redundant (I think I've used the word "charge" one too many times) - had to resort to using some more of my horrible humor to bring an end to the chapter. So NEXT chapter should be the conclusion of the battle. I sure hope that some of you folks out there aren't getting tired of reading this because of the consant fighting. To be honest, I'm kinda getting tired of this conflict myself. It's about time for a lull in the story.

Oh yeah, if you see anything iffy in the story (i.e. funky grammar, incorrect spelling, weird shit in general - stuff like that), as always, I'd appreciate it if anyone would let me know. I usually do a good job at proofreading my work, but I do occasionally miss some things. I am human, after all.

So anyways, here's chapter seven. Kind of a long one, so you might want to get comfy; but then again, I always say something along the lines of "get comfortable," don't I?

* * *

Ruin crashed through the demonic lines again. This time though, he didn't stop – he just kept on plowing through, emerging out on the other side in short order. Needless to say, dozens of Guards were swept aside in this effort. The demons didn't give chase. It would have been a futile effort anyways.

Scanning the perimeter of the defensive line, Lazarus searched for the hill that his comrade was positioned on. He found it relatively quickly – it was several hundred yards away on another side of the battlefield.

Motioning for Ruin to turn right, the phantom steed heeded the human's command without question. The horse circled around the demonic formation. The demons in the rear echelons turned to growl and roar vulgar threats at them, but they never followed through with their hostility. Some, however, had ranged weapons on them, and attempted to take potshots at Lazarus – he didn't even bother training Mercy on them. They weren't even worth the effort and the two were moving so fast that no projectiles hit him or Ruin.

In no time at all, the duo arrived at the small hill overlooking the battle.

When Dinah saw them coming her way, she moved to greet them.

Right when Ruin was nearly next to her, Lazarus pulled back on the reins. In response, Ruin halted his run and reared back on his hind legs, neighing abruptly. Then, Lazarus smiled to himself and did the one thing he had always wanted to do when he was a kid.

"YEEHAW!" he yelled out, firing Mercy several times into the air.

Then the horse fell forward back onto his forward limbs. Ruin swung his head around to glare at his rider.

"Oh, don't give me that look, buddy. I know you liked it too," he said with a smirk, patting Ruin on the side.

The horse merely snorted in protest as Lazarus dismounted the saddle.

"I didn't know you could ride a horse," a voice called out.

Smiling to himself, he turned around and said: "One of the few things left that you now know about me."

Standing several feet away was Dinah, eyeing Ruin nervously.

The horse sauntered over to this new arrival – curiosity was evident in Ruin's features. He didn't show hostility towards her like he did to Lazarus (said hostility had now morphed into cautious trust; although the human was somewhat annoying). Getting a bit too close for comfort, Dinah stepped away towards Lazarus. Ruin merely snorted and didn't bother to follow her. Instead he turned to gaze back towards the battlefield, undoubtedly thinking of his master.

"Relax, Dinah. This dude is one badass horse."

"If you say so," was Dinah's only reply.

Several seconds of silence reigned between the two as they watched the battle continue to unfold.

What they saw next, shocked them into awe.

* * *

War searched. Not the flat plains that the battle was still taking place on – not with his vision. Instead, he looked inwardly. He looked deep down, all the way to his core. He did not have to look long before he found what he was looking for.

_Wrath._ Raw, unadulterated anger. A swirling and purifying firestorm that was formless, and yet, could encompass virtually anything.

He "reached" forward, groping and grasping for some sort of hold, something to grab on to. He had to touch it. He had to hold it. But above all, control it. Tame it and master it. To wield it as a weapon like how he would wield Chaoseater. And in doing so, he would, paradoxically, lose control. Such was the nature and essence of Chaos.

Slowly but surely, the swirling firestorm coalesced into a tiny, miniaturized ball. Then, it began to expand. And it did not stop. Unceasingly and tirelessly, the ball grew to even greater sizes, as if it was a star entering the final stages of its life. But this sun was unlike any other – instead of dying, it would grow brighter and brighter, and larger and larger. And once it reached completion, then it would die, exploding outwards like an omnipotent and unyielding supernova.

Dimly aware of the charging Trauma's presence and the closing proximity of the demon, War fed fuel to the internal fires.

For a split and alarming second, the sun suddenly and rapidly shrank to the tiny size it had once been. What was this? What was going on? This had never happened before, not even when he was on the Charred Council's leash – in which the Watcher was limiting a great deal of his power – during when he was fighting against the Destroyer. Not even when he first gained the ability to use the Chaos Form long ago. What was the cause of this? Did breaking the Seventh Seal completely reset his power? Or was it something else?

Quickly, War thought of anything to feed the flames – anything to make him angry. He thought of the time when he openly defied Death and the others, in which Death had then severed his left hand below the elbow and replaced it with the massive gauntlet that now resided there. No – he was insubordinate at the time and deserved to be taken down a peg or two. He knew little, if any, discipline at the time.

He thought of when he learned of the fact that Azrael was misguidedly involved in the plot to preemptively defeat Hell before the Second Kingdom had become too powerful – the conspiracy that had resulted in his setup. No – Azrael was being used and pressured by Abaddon to further the angel's own agenda. Although it was partially the Archangel's fault, Azrael was highly regretful of his actions – redemption was still a possibility for him.

The Charred Council then came to mind, and immediately, his blood boiled. The reason why was not because of the fact that for most of his life he had answered to their authority. The reason was not because of the Watcher, which they had chained to him like a "dog and its master." After all, the hound had delivered retribution, and it was greatly satisfying.

The reason why was for the simple fact that the Council, duty-bound to uphold the law and maintain the balance, had so willingly used him as their scapegoat and personal assassin. Why had the Council even assigned the Watcher to "guard" against War's actions? Of course, the Watcher was to make sure War did not fall out of line. But, what if, the damnable demon had another purpose? What if the Council was observing the Horseman's actions through the Watcher and had been giving new orders to the demon to persuade War to unknowingly fulfill the Council's agenda?

Suddenly, a spike of power rippled through him – from the mini-sun outwards to the very surface of his skin and back again. The star rapidly grew many, many times its original size, before finally consuming War.

* * *

The Trauma charged onwards, closing the distance quickly. The accursed Horseman was just standing there, eyes shut and body trembling.

What luck he had – the Council's dog had finally been broken! He would receive great glory from this kill and his name would be known throughout existence as the demon that killed War! All would fear and respect him!

As soon as the Trauma was within striking range, he raised both of his hands up, intending pummel the Horseman into the ground.

With a triumphant roar skyward, he brought his hands down fast and hard.

Just as his mighty hands were about to make contact, a second sun, one very similar to the sun that hung in the sky, formed right there – out of nowhere.

The Trauma did not see the fireball that had formed and expanded into incredible size in less than a second. It did not feel the purifying heat of the sun consume nearly its entire body. It did not even notice that it had just simply ceased to exist.

* * *

Ruin watched on, not at all surprised at the sight before him. Beside him, twin intakes of air could be heard.

Beside Ruin, Lazarus stared on in wonder at the sight before him, curious about would happen next.

Beside Lazarus, Dinah stared on in a mix of amazement and awe at the sight before her, nearly terrified at what all of this meant.

And then, the second sun rapidly shrunk into a mere pinprick, leaving a sizeable crater in its place – in this crater stood a terrifying and titanic being.

"Oh my god . . ."

* * *

For several seconds, War felt, heard, and saw nothing. The only thing that he could acknowledge was the sun that had consumed him. Then, suddenly, it shrank and vanished. His senses returned, but they were no longer normal.

He could feel the air rushing around him – and yet, there was no wind. He could feel the temperature of the air climb dramatically as it came into contact with his body.

He could hear the enemy, and yet, no sound had been made by them, no doubt shocked into silence at his sudden transformation. Focusing on the Traumas specifically, he could hear their hearts beat within their chests. He could hear the blood rush through their veins. He could hear their breathing change as they beheld the sight before them.

And as the First Horseman of the Apocalypse opened his eyes, he saw the world in an entirely different perspective. Everything seemed to have an orange, fiery tinge to it. His enemies, however, looked very different. Although they all had their same shapes and sizes, he could actually see their body heat – as if he had been looking through infrared goggles.

Then, War noticed that there were only four Traumas now. What happened to the fifth?

That was when War looked down and learned of the fate of the fifth.

Of what remained of the demon, only its feet remained – just the toes and short cauterized stumps at the very edge of the crater. The skin had been flash-fried, nearly turned to ash from the extreme heat of the star that had consumed the rest of the demon. The twin stumps were already losing heat, beginning to fade to a dull blue color, while the point where the feet was severed from the rest of the demon's body was white hot.

Inwardly, War made a small smile to himself. That was lucky of him. A millisecond later and he would have been flattened under the demon's fists – forget about transforming.

With a slow and deliberate step forwards out of the crater that his transformation had created, War advanced. With each mighty step that he took, the ground underneath his feet shook and burned and melted.

Something . . . felt different. The Horseman could not discern exactly what did though. It felt like he had rested for a very long time, not moving any muscles unnecessarily. It felt like it was his first time walking in this body, as if it had just been born.

But that did not necessarily mean that he was weak and unable to fight. On the contrary, he felt powerful – very powerful. To say that he felt practically unrivaled and unmatched would not be inaccurate.

But he could worry about that later. He walked towards the Trauma corpse that had Chaoseater lodged into its skull. Planting a foot down on the body's shoulder and reaching down, War grabbed the weapon and easily dislodged it from the corpse. As soon as the sword came into contact with his hand, it burst into flames, growing three times its original size. As it left the body, the heat of the flames cauterized the wound it had caused, while at the same time, nearly splitting the head in half as it grew. The stimuli of this action – the head being burned and nearly split apart and his foot touching dead flesh, causing it to burn – caused no discomfort or elicited no disgust.

Now armed, War looked towards his enemy. They looked much more like prey to him now. His current body was incapable of facial expressions – such as smiling. If War could, he would have cracked a sadistic grin from ear to ear.

* * *

The two humans stared in awe and trepidation at the sight before them. War had gone from imposing and deadly, to downright hellish.

His body had completely changed. Now, he took on the appearance of some destructive demon. His entire body had blackened and cracked skin, complete with intense heat and fire. His legs were long and powerful. How he walked had changed too. Instead of walking upright, he was hunched over slightly. His legs had changed to allow for digitigrade locomotion – walking on one's toes, which splayed apart like a dinosaur's. A long tail had formed where there wasn't one before, possibly for balance.

On his back, featherless wings had formed, serving no purpose but to enhance his terrifying image. His upper body was barrel-chested. Powerful arms with clawed hands carried the transformed Chaoseater, which now looked like a gout of flame curving away from a simple hilt – complete with hand-guard.

But the Horseman's face was what really affected the humans. Large, curving horns grew out of the side of his head. He had no eyes in the sockets – just a fiery orange firestorm glared out at the world. The same could be said for his mouth – no living tissue – just the teeth and the same, roiling inferno. Overall, his appearance was very animalistic and feral – demonic even.

So there stood War, enhanced and transformed, ready to singlehandedly decimate the enemy. The four remaining Traumas and War glared at each other, on opposite ends of the battlefield. For several minutes, nothing happened. The two opposing forces just simply waited for the other to make the first move – or the first mistake.

Or at least, that's what Lazarus thought. Another part of him believed that this whole standoff was nothing more than a predator sizing up his prey. Or perhaps, the prey had already been sized up, and the predator was merely toying with the prey. The tension was so thick that Lazarus could probably take a swing at it with his rifles' bayonets – and still not cut it.

But then again, he probably didn't need to – suddenly, the tension snapped like a twig.

And an explosive and frenzied melee began.

* * *

With a roar that seemed to shake the very foundations of the earth, War charged – he charged hard and he charged fast.

Reacting quickly, all the enemy Traumas surged forward simultaneously. There were no tactics this time – this time, it was a battle of strength. And with four of them and only one of him, their chances of victory were higher.

In seconds, the titans of the battlefield clashed.

War made the first move – rearing back his right arm, he flung Chaoseater, once again, like a spear. No luck – the demons ducked and swerved aside just in time. The now massive weapon simply crashed and lodged itself into the ground.

But discarding his weapon didn't stop him. Still charging forward, War lowered his head slightly and ran faster. In seconds, physical contact occurred – the horns on his head rammed straight into the chest of one demon, War's forward momentum stronger than that of the Trauma, sending it sprawling to the ground. War simply ran right over him.

Then, with lightning speed, he completely turned around and rushed back towards the demons. The other three Traumas quickly moved out of the way of the speeding fiery demon. But War tracked one of them and struck out with a vicious backhand to the face, burning skin and sending the demon reeling.

Suddenly, two of the demons collided with him on opposite sides, one from the right, the other from the left. They then performed a maneuver that War did not expect. Completely ignoring the consequences of their actions, the two demons grabbed his arms and restrained him. The Traumas pushed down the pain of War's fiery skin in contact with their own.

Quickly the two other Traumas, one of which had got back up from being rammed by War, charged forward. Like a gang of thugs beating up their opponent, the two demons lashed out with quick strikes across War's face and chest, using their forearm claws as if they were boxing gloves. Blow after blow blasted into him, powerful and unrelenting.

Finally, the jabbing demons finished up their tag-team – one delivered a final series of punches to the ribs while the other delivered a brutal haymaker to his face. At the same time the two demons restraining him suddenly let go – the haymaker sent him airborne and flying backwards several yards.

Quickly, War recovered – righting his fall, he landed in a crouch, before dashing forward as if he hadn't even been blasted by a several dozen punches. Singling out one Trauma, War ducked low of a sideways swipe, before bringing up a fist in a bone-jarring uppercut. The blow sent the demon flying high.

Quickly, War jumped up after the enemy, grabbed it in the face, and threw it back down to earth, before letting gravity do its job. Aiming for the upper body, War landed hard on the Trauma, one foot planting itself on the demons head. It roared in pain as his feet burned skin. War reached down, grabbed its head, and sharply twisted it sideways.

_CRACK!_

The demon's body instantly went limp.

War suddenly roared in pain as one of the Traumas impaled his back with his forearm claws. He quickly brought his elbow around, bashing the demon in the face – instantly, it retreated. But War wasn't going to let the demon get away. He backflipped off of the body and landed right in front of the offending demon.

But before he could even do anything, the demon lashed out with a swipe to the face. War ducked under the attack and backed off for a second. Right before he was about to retaliate, he heard a battle cry behind him and ducked again – another one, attacking from behind. Deciding that he was at disadvantage, War rolled to the side, only to have the third remaining Trauma bull-rush him. He had no time to react.

The demon crashed into him, sending both flying several yards away, sprawling to the ground – somehow, the Trauma managed to get on top of him, trying it's best to restrain him, completely oblivious to the fact that his skin was burning. War merely opened up his right fist and clawed the demon's face – immediately, it got off him and retreated, clutching its face. War quickly got up and hopped backwards several times.

Neither he nor the demons continued the brawl.

All three of the remaining Traumas had burn wounds all over their bodies. All three were breathing heavily.

War, however, was a different story. While he did feel somewhat fatigued, he still felt like he could go on like this for a little while longer. But he didn't know how long he would last like this. It was better to end the fight as quickly as possible. And he decided to do just that. It was time to change tactics.

Standing behind the Traumas some distance away was Chaoseater. It was still imbedded into the ground, and it was still transformed – because of this, the grass around the sword had been burned to a crispy black. It was impossible to miss.

Right now, the enemy knew that they actually had a chance against him when he was unarmed. This tussle alone was proving that fact – so if he rearmed himself, victory would come quick.

With that thought in mind, War charged forward.

The demons, perhaps anticipating his intentions, moved to intercept, only to dive aside as War ran into their position. One Trauma, however, held his ground. The demon braced for impact. The two collided with each other, the Trauma skidding backwards several feet – instantly, hands locked with each other as one attempted to push back the other. And thus, a deadlock of physical might ensued.

Interestingly enough, neither of the other two Traumas interfered – either they were letting their comrade fight his own battle, possibly held back by some honorable morality of sorts, or they were concerned about injuring their comrade if they attacked. Either way, War took advantage of this and took his time.

The Horseman resisted the demon's force, but he didn't push back, merely waiting for the demon to tire itself out. For an entire minute, War matched the strength of his opponent – just for the thrill of it, several times he allowed his opponent to push him back, before suddenly exceeding his enemy's strength and pushing him back. Then he would back of for a little bit. It was clearly evident to the Trauma that War was toying with him, and that angered him. The demon attempted a final effort to overwhelm War, pushing hard. Again, War allowed his opponent to push him back.

Then, the predator was finished playing with the prey. Suddenly, and with incredible strength, the Horseman surged forward, pushing back the demon. For a split second, the deadlock persisted, before finally breaking.

War threw the demon to the ground at his feet. Immediately, it tried to get up, before receiving a vicious blow to the face. It toppled again to the ground.

The other two Traumas closed in again – with haste, War stepped over his opponent and ran full tilt towards Chaoseater. One demon pursued while the other stayed behind to assist his comrade to his feet. The Horseman reached his sword in seconds, pulling it out of the ground with little difficulty.

The demon in pursuit instantly ceased his charge.

War glanced back behind his shoulder, glaring at the one demon that decided to follow. He turned and roared threateningly at the Trauma – War took up a slow, stalking pace around the demon. His opponent stood stock-still, waiting for the perfect moment to fall back. One-on-one with War was the last thing he wanted, especially if the Horseman was armed. Fortunately, before War could make a move, his comrades intervened.

Both of the other two Traumas came charging at War, bull-rushing him again from opposite directions. Instead of attempting to evade, War charged head-on at one of the onrushing demons. He swung Chaoseater quickly as he got within striking range. The fiery sword burned a path through the demon's skin, halting the demon in its tracks and sending it several paces back. War quickly turned and met the other demon rushing him with vertical swipe downwards – the Trauma rolled aside, the blade cutting only the air. The moment it finished its roll, it looked up and prepared to make another action, only to have the hilt of Chaoseater painfully smash into his face, falling backwards to the ground – he was vulnerable. War moved in for the kill.

The demon tried to groggily get up, only to receive another punishing blow to the face. Standing to the demon's side, War raised Chaoseater high into the air, inverted it, and prepared to bring it down. Just as he was about to enact his execution, the wounded Trauma recovered and rushed him in a desperate act to save his comrade.

War saw the demon coming, but he didn't act – he allowed the enemy to get in close. However, he underestimated the demon's speed. Just as the Trauma moved within striking range, the demon reared his arm back and delivered a brutal punch to War's face.

Then, suddenly, the demon stopped cold, his arm still extended outwards into his opponents face. He looked down –

– and saw Chaoseater impaled in his abdomen, the wound already cauterized by the sword's fire. For a moment, the two stayed exactly as they were, neither reacting to the damage sustained on their bodies – War's sword lodged in the demon's abdomen, and the Trauma's forearm claws digging into the Horseman's face. Then, War extracted the sword from the enemy, the demon dropping his hand and falling to his knees.

War turned his attention back to the enemy lying before him, no longer caring of the demon he had just defeated, albeit he was still on his knees. Suddenly, the demon on the ground took a swipe at War's shins. The Horseman merely grunted, ignoring the pain, before kicking the offending limb away and placing a foot on his enemy's throat – the demon tried to roar in pain, but at the same time, War applied pressure, his foot not only suffocating the Trauma, but also burning the demon's neck. It struggled against him, but its efforts were in vain – the demon was losing its strength, its life trickling away. In a matter of moments, the demon stopped moving, dead – either from asphyxiation or the burn wounds.

With only two more Traumas left, War turned to see that the other demon was still alive – just kneeling there, staring at War as the Horseman ended his comrade's life. And he couldn't do anything about it. And he couldn't stop his death either. The last thing he saw was War, assuming an execution stance, the sword Chaoseater held at the side, ready to cut into him.

Then War swung. For the briefest of seconds, the Trauma could feel the sword cut into his neck, before his existence abruptly ended.

With that enemy finally dealt with, War eyed the last Trauma. Interestingly enough, it was the leader from before – the demon covered in war paint. It must have been hard for the demon to see his entire pack killed before his eyes. Indeed, the demon looked angry – very angry. The demon acted on his anger and charged. War did likewise.

* * *

Up on the hill, Lazarus, Dinah and Ruin continued to watch the frenzied slugfest down below.

Of the three occupants of this hill, one was pacing back and forth in a slightly bored state.

"For Christ's sake, Lazarus, could you stop that? You're annoying me."

"Dinah, you know that I can't be patient while waiting. And besides, you should blame War – he told me to leave."

"That doesn't mean anything. Now for the love of God, stop moving!"

For a second, Lazarus did. "You know who you remind me of?" he asked.

"I don't know. Who?"

"My dad – he always hated fidgeting." Then Lazarus started pacing again, eliciting a frustrated sigh from Dinah.

"If you're this bored, then do something. Clean your rifle. Twiddle your thumbs. Something other than fidgeting!"

"Wouldn't twiddling my thumbs be counted as fidgeting?" he asked contemplatively.

Growling in annoyance, Dinah reached for her rifle slung across her shoulder and unslung it, ejecting the empty magazine.

"SHUT UP, DAMMIT!" she yelled, throwing the magazine at her comrade; it collided with his head with a painful _thwack!_

"Ow! What the Hell, Dinah! You don't see me throwing shit at you!" Despite saying that, Lazarus picked up the tiny steel box and threw it back at Dinah. She caught it in midair, throwing the magazine and an insult back his way.

"Hypocritical bastard!" Lazarus did the same.

"Sadistic bitch!" And on it went, the two of them flinging the magazine and insults back and forth.

"Gun freak!"

"Jackass!"

"Shit-for-brains!"

"Overly-intelligent woman!"

"Was that a compliment?"

"Yes, it was."

"Thank you."

"You're welcome. Now then, where was I?" Lazarus said, pausing. "Oh yeah. SLUT!" yelled Lazarus a final time, throwing the magazine with all his strength. Suddenly Lazarus stopped cold.

"Wait, I just got an –" _Thwack!_ Lazarus toppled to the ground. "Ow! Son of a – STOP THAT!

Dinah shrugged. "You started it."

"No I –" Lazarus stopped mid-sentence, sighing. Grabbing the magazine and getting to his feet, inhaling and exhaling, he calmed his anger.

"Whatever – I don't care. I just thought of an idea." Now calm, he tossed the magazine back at his comrade and walked towards Ruin – she caught it again and returned it to its place in her rifle.

"Where are you going?" she asked.

"Just stay here. I'll be right back."

Just as he was about to mount Ruin, he stopped, making eye contact with the fiery horse, as if asking an all-important question. The steed shook his body, and averted his gaze. Seemingly satisfied, Lazarus mounted the saddle, and in seconds, the two were gone.


	8. Chapter 8

**Author's Note:** Alright people, I bring you Chapter 8. I hope that my little teaser didn't torture you folks too much. ^_^

In any case, I'll try to have Chapter 9 uploaded by Christmas Day, but, again, I won't make any promises. I actually doubt that to be a possibility anyways; but I'm still going to try. If I don't get number 9 uploaded in three days, I'm just going to say this now: Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays, ladies and gentlemen. This is my present from me to you.

As always, enjoy.

* * *

Ruin came to a sliding stop. Off in the distance, about a mile away, were the sounds of armed conflict as War, transformed into his Chaos Form, and the leader Trauma battled it out. Lazarus dismounted and briskly walked to a tree – the only tree on the plains for miles. In the tree's shadow was a small pond and some shrubbery surrounding the base of the trunk. Ruin looked around. Why had Lazarus brought him here? There was nothing here – nothing that could be of use. Or, at least, that's what the phantom steed thought.

The human stopped just short of some foliage, inspecting it. After several seconds of his scrutinizing gaze, he moved on to another bush; he repeated this several times before coming to a very large bush. Except this time Lazarus paid much more attention to this one.

Chuckling, he said, "Here she is." She? Did that mean that there were more of these humans? Ruin sauntered over to get a better look. The foliage was so thick that he couldn't hope to look through the shrubbery – he couldn't see inside the bush.

"Yep. She's a beaut, ain't she?" he asked with a smile. Ruin cast a sidelong look at Lazarus, tilting his head in curiosity. He looked closer. Then Ruin noticed that the bush was, in fact, not a bush at all.

It was camouflage netting with multiple and large pieces of foliage scattered across it to help hide whatever was underneath. And underneath said netting, was the telltale glimmer of something metallic, painted to match the color of the surrounding environment. Then Lazarus began to remove the netting.

"Ruin," he said. "Allow me to introduce to you, Predator."

* * *

Dinah watched as War battled his final opponent with awe and amazement. The skill displayed by War and the leader Trauma was astounding – both fought with extreme ferocity. Despite being somewhat wounded, the leader Trauma was holding his own against War – against War's skill, his strength, and his power. But she could tell that the demon was fighting a losing battle.

The duel had been going on for at least five minutes now and neither warrior showed any signs of stopping – however, the Trauma was beginning to show signs of weakness; his maneuvers were beginning to get sloppy. War, on the other hand, showed very few signs of such fatigue.

In addition, while the Trauma was a powerhouse in his own right, War was even greater in power. It wasn't just physical might that the demon couldn't beat. Throughout the course of the fight, War unleashed several attacks that could rightfully be described as magical – demonic even.

Pillars of fire erupting out of the ground, scorching anything caught in their path; mini-stars suddenly winking into existence from out of thin air, only to explode outwards in violent supernovas, dying just as suddenly as they came into existence; even the very air became a weapon as War suddenly sent its temperature skyrocketing, creating a firestorm. And yet, the leader Trauma, either out of luck or skill – Dinah couldn't tell – evaded all.

The pillars of fire were small in diameter and easily gave away their positions, forewarning the demon a second before erupting skyward.

A telltale twinkle in the air would herald the sudden birth of a star on Earth, giving the leader Trauma a chance to avoid the sun altogether; their explosions, however, were harder to avoid – if the demon was too close to a star when it exploded, not only did it burn him, but it blasted him off his feet as well, sending him flying several yards. More than once the explosive supernovas were nearly the indirect link to his demise – after the explosions, War would surge forward as quickly as his body would allow and attack with fanatic ferocity. Sometimes, the demon would still be on his back when this happened.

As for War creating a veritable firestorm, it seemed that the heat of the air reduced the farther away it was from War – whenever the Horseman tried this tactic, the demon simply backed off and waited for War to drop the temperature. Interestingly enough, War didn't seem to be able to move when he did this. While this would normally make him vulnerable to attack, the fact that the very air burned everything within a certain radius of War prevented any possible attack save for a ranged one.

Needless to say, the Phantom Guards that encircled the two, still maintaining the massive make-shift arena, were inexplicably caught up in the crossfire. War's supernatural attacks reaped a horrible tally against the Guards numbers, causing them to adjust the size of the battlefield accordingly. Before, during the initial stages of the fight, the fighting space the Guards allowed was up to one hundred yards in all directions. Now, that distance increased to three hundred.

Suddenly, Dinah heard a roar. At first, she thought that it was one of the warriors down below, expelling animalistic threats at one another. But then she realized that it wasn't from them. The sound that now permeated the air wasn't close by, but it got louder as the seconds went by. Then, she recognized the noise for what it really was, and smiled.

She walked to the edge of the hill in the opposite direction of the battle. There, she saw a vehicle barreling towards her location at high speed. Following closely behind, effortlessly matching its velocity was Ruin. In seconds, the powerful roar (now properly identified, it could be better described as a high-pitched whine) grew in volume as the vehicle crested the hilltop and skidded to a halt beside her. Ruin did likewise.

Then the driver's-side door flew open, revealing Lazarus manning the wheel. He stepped out of the vehicle and walked up to Dinah. "If this speed demon had any keys, I would be teasing you with them by now," he said laughing, dangling imaginary keys in front of her face. Upon mentioning this, Dinah's face lit up slightly.

"Really? You're going to let me drive Predator?"

"I never said that, now did I?"

"Oh, but you implied that," she countered, playfully snatching away the imaginary keys and walking towards the machine before her.

Predator, as Lazarus was fond of calling it, was one hell of a car. In fact, the word "supercar" came to mind in regards to Predator – actually, supercar on anabolic steroids was a better description.

Predator was in the realm between a sports car and a utility vehicle. It was aerodynamically sleek, hinting at the kind of speeds it moved at. However, at the same time, it had to lug around much of their equipment across many terrain types. Because of the vehicle's dual roles of "speed demon" and "pack mule," it had to be very powerful. And indeed it was.

Unhindered, Predator could reach speeds up to three hundred thirty-five miles per hour. Loaded up with one hundred pounds worth of equipment and ammunition dropped that speed down to around three hundred, provided that the amount of fuel the car was consuming was constant. Acceleration was of little issue as well; the vehicle was capable of acceleration from zero to sixty miles an hour in about four seconds when loaded and less than three seconds unloaded. Under ideal circumstances, Predator could just barely exceed the three hundred fifty mark.

But Predator was addressed as such for a reason. It had another job as well – "attack dog." Predator could come equipped with an entire slew of weapons; anything ranging from machine guns to missile launchers. So not only did it have to transport their equipment, but the car had to have its own ammo supply. In addition to the weapons, there was a space reserved in the center of the vehicle that allowed for the gunner to man the weapons module. And said module was one of the highlights of the vehicle.

Instead of seating the gunner up on an elevated, rotating platform, where he or she would be half inside and half outside of the vehicle, exposed to enemy attacks, the gunner's seat allowed for turret manipulation safely inside the vehicle. The station itself was pretty high-tech. Once situated, the gunner was closed off from the rest of the vehicle, enshrouding him or her in darkness. Then, various cameras along the car's body sent information to projectors that gave out a holographic display of the vehicle's surroundings – in a full three hundred sixty degrees – thus, giving the gunner the advantage of an exposed position up in the turret, visibility, while still offering protection. An information and targeting computer aided the gunner with weapon conditions, ammo count, turret orientation, and where to aim for optimum accuracy – and thus, a higher chance for a kill – among other things. The computer could even be programmed to operate without a gunner (courtesy of a combat Artificial Intelligence), effectively reducing the crew to just the driver.

The turret was even capable of being stored inside the chassis of the vehicle, to promote better aerodynamics.

However, should anything happen to the cameras on the vehicle's body, the gunner would lose the holographic feed. If and when this occurs, the gunner's seat, which is linked to the turret, is automatically raised into the "traditional" seating position – half exposed to the attacks of the enemy and operating the turret manually.

Another computer, located on the dashboard, aided the driver with navigation. In addition, this computer would analyze the type of terrain Predator was traversing and adjust the hydraulics accordingly. Speed performance suffered to a degree whenever this happened, depending on the terrain.

The chassis of Predator was of a composite design. Much of the bulk of the body consisted of carbon fiber, while two separate layers of steel, both a half-inch thick, were placed on outermost and innermost parts of the chassis. The windows were tinted and damage-resistant, but that didn't make them invulnerable. The entire car was colored in a camouflage green pattern, to help the vehicle blend in to some of the environments that Lazarus and Dinah operated in.

And lastly, the thing that kept Predator running was a thirteen hundred horsepower gasoline engine, supplemented with two hydrogen fuel cells.

It took Lazarus and Dinah roughly seven years to create this vehicle.

It wasn't often that Lazarus allowed her drive this monster of a car, since he was the one who constructed most of the vehicle. She walked around the vehicle, inspecting it for any abnormal signs, idly tracing a finger along the smooth and gradual contours of the body, all designed to promote speed. At one point during the development of Predator, Lazarus came up with the idea of shaping the chassis with sharp angles (bringing to mind an F-117 Nighthawk) instead of smooth curves. His reasoning: the alternative chassis design simply looked cooler, in his opinion. But Dinah argued that the current design, which was more akin to an F-22 Raptor, was far more efficient.

Satisfied that there was nothing wrong with Predator, she sidled into the driver's seat. Lazarus came up next to her, leaning against the car frame.

"So what's the plan?" she asked.

"Pretty simple, really," Lazarus replied. "I'll ride Ruin, while you drive Predator. Give me some IFF markers." She complied, reaching over to the passenger seat and opening the glove compartment. Inside was a small firearm of sorts, although the barrel was modified to fire something other than bullets. Next to the gun were small, chip-like devices – the IFF markers, or "Identify Friend or Foe."

These devices were rarely used, if ever. Yet, Lazarus thought that it would be a good idea to keep them handy. It would seem that he was right.

As she handed the markers over, he said, "Hey, hand me the gun too." She handed that over as well. With IFF markers in hand, he walked back to Ruin, who was eying Predator with curiosity; as Lazarus approached, the horse shifted his attention to the human.

"Hold still for a second." Instantly, Ruin backed away.

'_Hm. Probably shouldn't have said that,'_ he thought. "Easy, buddy. I'm not gonna hurt you." _'Much.' _He held up a single marker and explained: "This little thing is going to keep you safe by preventing that thing over there . . . " he pointed at the imposing vehicle, ". . . from attacking you."

He slipped all but one of the markers into a pant pocket, pressed the last one against Ruin's skin, and pressed a little button – it was so quick that Ruin didn't get a chance to back away again. Instantly, the little device attached itself to Ruin's hide, eliciting a short and surprised whinny. The horse glared at Lazarus.

"Ok, maybe I lied. But that wasn't so bad now was it?"

The flaming stallion merely snorted in response.

"Ok, ok, I'm sorry. But trust me when I say that this thing is supposed to protect you from friendly fire. Now come on. I want you to hear my plan too."

The horse took a sidelong glance at the marker, which was intermittently flashing a blue light, before following closely behind the human.

"So what exactly do you want me to do?" Dinah asked as Lazarus and Ruin walked back towards the supercar.

"Simple: just drive around the battlefield."

"Wait, that's all?"

"Pretty much. Technically, that's all you're doing. The car will be doing something too."

"Let me guess: blasting some demons."

"Bingo."

"I thought so. Rules of engagement?"

"Program it to not attack anything near the IFF markers. Anything else is fair game."

"Roger. Anything else?"

"That's it. Just try not to crash into us too," Lazarus said as he mounted Ruin's saddle.

"So let me get this straight. The overall strategy of your plan involves the two of us encircling the battlefield and attacking the rear flanks of the demons. Right?"

"That's it in a nutshell. Since you already seem to know the plan, why the Hell are we still talking about it?"

"Well, have you seen what War's been doing?"

That question prompted Lazarus to look towards the battle below. He turned is head just in time to witness one of War's star explosion attacks, obliterating a portion of the battlefield and a good number of Phantom Guards.

Lazarus let out an impressed whistle. "Wow. That, uh . . . that' something.

"But what does War have to do with us?" he said, addressing Dinah.

With a frustrated groan, Dinah smacked her head against the steering wheel and accidentally honked the horn. Slightly surprised by the noise, both Dinah and Ruin recoiled from the noise – Dinah snapped her head back up while Ruin gave out a startled whinny.

Sighing, she said, "War practically has his very own personal stockpile of WMDs."

"Yeah. So?"

Irritated even more, she stopped for a second, holding her face and shaking her head. _'I swear, he can be real dense sometimes.'_

"If War is blasting the area down there straight to Kingdom Come, why should we get involved? Why should we even bother exerting the effort? And if we do, we might get caught up in the crossfire."

"Hm. Good point – I didn't think of that."

"Some tactician you are," she said dryly.

"BUT –" Lazarus shouted, ignoring her comment and pointing a finger at Dinah. "Would you prefer it if we just sat here, with me fidgeting around and annoying the utter crap out of you, with our situation devolving back to trying to cave each other's skulls in with an empty ammo mag?"

She merely stared at him with a deadpan expression on her face.

"I could twiddle my thumbs for you," he said with a wry smirk while acting said action out.

With an expression on her face that betrayed her thoughts of murdering Lazarus, Dinah slammed the door on Predator. In seconds, the supercar roared to life as the monster engine fed power to the vehicle with its trademark whirring noise; then, Predator peeled away at an incredible speed.

Lazarus chuckled at the sight. "Score one for the Laz-Man."

And in moments, they too shot off towards to what Lazarus believed to be the battle's conclusion.

* * *

This demon was smart – he was skilled too. The fact that the leader Trauma was holding his own against War was a testament to that fact.

Whenever the two crossed blades the demon never stayed in contact with War's sword for more than a second – any longer and the sheer heat of Chaoseater would render the demon's forearm claws utterly useless. The demon parried the sword – he never blocked. In addition, he seemed to have learned from his comrades as well. War hoped that the demon would try to get him into some sort of hold, thus, making the process of killing the demon easier. But the Trauma seemed to be too smart for that – the demon made no attempt at some of the radical moves that his underlings tried, and any attempt that he made at getting within spitting distance of the demon was constantly thwarted.

The Trauma kept his cool and never made risky moves, fighting in a very defensive fighting style. Whenever War attacked, the demon either parried or evaded the attack, before counterattacking, causing War to either parry or evade in turn. This dance of theirs had lasted for several minutes now. War was strictly on the offensive, and he was getting somewhat angered that he wasn't making any sort of progress. He came to realize a little while ago that this battle was one of attrition – it all came down to who could outlast who. And that seemed to be a winning battle for the Horseman. Indeed, he was feeling somewhat tired from this fight, but the demon was showing his fatigue a bit more than War. All he had to do was keep up the pressure.

'_Lazarus would enjoy this kind of battle,' _War thought amusedly as he swung Chaoseater – which was parried – remembering some of the human's quips earlier in the conflict. Long and drawn out battles, such as the one War was currently fighting, seemed to be Lazarus' preferred niche. Maybe it was the thrill of battle that kept the human going under the pressures of combat – an adrenaline high perhaps. The human did seem to be enjoying himself a bit too much to be considered normal.

War, however, hated these kinds of battles. The longer a battle dragged on, the more chances the enemy had of killing him. To help steer the odds more towards his favor, War always fought hard and fast and rarely gave his enemies a chance to attack. Thus, an offensive attack style was the Horseman's preferred method of waging conflict. And it worked – most of the time.

This time, it wasn't working. He was fighting against an intelligent and skilled defensive combatant who always waited for War to make the first moves. Indeed, the leader Trauma waited patiently for War to attack again, arms up and ready to parry. Just as War was about to resume attacking, something distracted him out of the corner of his vision.

Foolishly, War turned his head to look and was partially surprised at two things. The first was that his opponent didn't take advantage of this moment of weakness – in fact, the demon looked away as well. The second was that Lazarus and Ruin were headed his way at a high speed, with the human aiming a firearm of sorts at the Trauma. Then, War saw the human pull the trigger – except, there was no telltale flash of gunfire.

And then, as quickly as their appearance, they were gone.

Without giving it a second thought, the two combatants resumed their duel, with War, once again, on the offensive. They paid little mind to what just happened. Nor did they notice the small, chip-like device on the Trauma's hard, rock-like back, emitting a blinking yellow light.

* * *

Lazarus holstered the IFF gun and quickly drew Mercy, sending a storm of lead directly in front of him, blasting the demonic lines apart. Of those that weren't killed outright by the fusillade of bullets, they were quickly bowled aside by Ruin. In seconds, the two were back on the outside of the "ring," with Lazarus, all the while, firing Mercy continuously.

* * *

There were hundreds of them – hundreds of red contacts. And it was cleared to engage _all._ With accuracy that only something such as itself was capable of, it sent scything fire into the enemy's ranks. But then again, due to the distance to the targets, how close they were all clumped together, and the speed at which the vehicle was moving at, it didn't bother with aiming, nor did it get much time to aim. It just simply opened up on the horde with the vehicle's fifty-caliber machine gun. However, there were some targets that were actually equipped with ranged weaponry, which gave them a retaliatory means of attack. It immediately targeted these enemies and dealt concentrated fire on the contacts, dropping them in seconds.

A little ways away, two _massive _unknown (considered hostile) targets were battling it out. These two contacts were roughly a little over three hundred yards away. While it _could_ engage at such a range, weapon accuracy would suffer unless the machine gun was fired in short, controlled bursts. But even then, not all of the bullets would find their mark. And besides, a signal was transmitting from a marker on one of the targets – which was confirmed by radar. The directive of the transmission: hold fire and do not engage anything within fifty yards of the beacon. It complied without question.

Suddenly, a new contact emerged from the rest of the horde, its speed and heading rather threatening – all of which were, again, confirmed by radar. However, it didn't even bother orienting the turret towards this new contact, as the radar was also receiving a friendly IFF signal from the target. It kept on firing.

Then, as the new target came closer to the vehicle, it stopped firing – radar determined that the friendly's path passed directly in front of its line of sight, and thus, its direction of fire. In a blur of motion, the friendly contact sped past – no hostile action was presented from the target. It resumed firing.

For the one split-second the friendly contact was directly opposite of the vehicle, the port-side camera caught an image of the target. In the picture, was a human riding a large horse – the man matched the physical profile of Lazarus, who was definitely considered an ally. And since he was riding this animal, which showed no signs of hostility, the horse was deemed friendly as well, and its physical profile was logged away into the short-term memory archives.

This analysis was conducted in simultaneous operation of handling the turret, and it was all done in merely a second – a trivial task.

Just another day at the office for a combat AI.

* * *

A horizontal slash – parried. A vertical chop – again, parried. A flurry of swings from his free hand – blocked and evaded. Even his supernatural attacks were proving to be unsuccessful. War was really getting sick and tired of this. But he was almost there; the leader Trauma was now showing extreme signs of weakness and fatigue. The demon was at the end of its ropes. It was time to end this – once and for all.

War charged once more, swinging Chaoseater in a wild arc. His opponent ducked underneath the attack, counterattacking with a swipe upwards towards the Horseman's face. Normally, War would have avoided the attack somehow – however, War intentionally let the attack strike home.

Growling, War grabbed the demon's wrist in a vice-like grip, before delivering a powerful uppercut to the enemy, and then summarily driving the Trauma's forearm claws into the ground, effectively anchoring the demon in its place. Then, War tried to deliver the coup de grace, a killing strike to the demon's head, only to have Chaoseater blocked by the demon's other hand.

No matter. The enemy was close enough for an alternative action – the Horseman held the demon as close to his body as possible.

War concentrated. His featherless wings flared upwards. He dug his heels into the ground. His skin seemed to burn brighter. Suddenly, the air temperature skyrocketed at an incredible rate.

Immediately, the leader Trauma began to thrash against the Horseman's body, but War held firm. As the air temperature increased to painful levels, the demon struggled even more, roaring in pain as its skin burned.

First degree burns. Then second degree – the damaged continued to progress further. In only a minute, the Trauma's flesh was blackened and charred. The heat was too much – it stopped struggling in no time. In two minutes time, the demon was dead.

War stopped heating the air and relaxed somewhat, stepping away from the burned body, which then fell to the ground with a crash. Inwardly, War sighed – although he had performed that attack before, that last action in particular was rather taxing on him, but at least it was finally over. He looked around.

A little over three hundred yards away, Lazarus and Ruin, along with some sort of vehicle, were reducing the demon's numbers with near impunity. Of those that weren't trying to deal with the more pressing threat, the demons observing War's final fight glared at the Horseman with shock and hatred.

Suddenly, a single Guard surged forth, bellowing murderous litanies. This sparked a chain reaction – every single enemy demon on the battlefield, excluding the ones concentrating on Lazarus and the others, charged after the lone trailblazer. Their intentions were obvious: attempt to overwhelm War with sheer numbers.

War had a plan for such a tactic. Driving Chaoseater into the ground, War began concentrating once more, although, not for another firestorm. No – War had a far more _explosive_ idea.

* * *

For a moment, Lazarus was somewhat surprised that the number of available targets to shoot suddenly dwindled to near nothing as the demonic lines advanced suddenly towards War. Just as he fired a salvo into one demon that was pestering him, Ruin surprised the human further still by veering off course away from the battle as fast as possible.

Lazarus didn't protest. He just simply held on tight.

* * *

_RAT-A-TAT-TAT-TAT-A-TAT-TAT_

The near continuous firing of Predator's heavy machine gun was almost deafening for Dinah as she continued to drive the supercar in a wide circuit around the battlefield.

Suddenly, she saw the number of demons shrink to nearly nothing. She turned her head slightly to observe the demon's mass charge at War. Then, a little ways away, she saw Ruin peel off from the attack, running away at full tilt. Her instincts told her to do the same.

With a sharp spin of the steering wheel, she oriented Predator's heading and floored the accelerator, feeding power to the engine. The firing of the turret soon stopped as well.

In mere moments, she caught up with the flaming stallion and held formation several yards behind Ruin. They left the battlefield away in the dust, but they still kept on going.

Dinah brought up the feed from the gun camera to a monitor on the dashboard.

For a moment, all seemed normal. Suddenly there was a flash of light, blinding the screen. Then, a sonic boom, louder than the whirring roar of the engine, blasted to her ears as a shockwave rattled the car. Up ahead, she saw Lazarus nearly falling out of the saddle due the force of the shockwave. Ruin just barely prevented himself from stumbling and crashing into the ground. Fortunately, both recovered quickly.

She rechecked the monitor and was shocked at what she saw.

Off in the distance, where the battle once was, stood a mushroom cloud that towered into the sky.

Dinah released the gas and slammed down on the brakes, bringing Predator to a sliding stop. Ruin stopped too – Lazarus dismounted and the two walked back to her. Immediately, she flung open the door and stepped out of the car, turning her head to look back behind her.

For a moment, she said nothing – she merely stared at the mushroom cloud that dominated the sky.

"Oh my –"

"Fucking God," finished Lazarus.


	9. Chapter 9

**Author's Note:** Here it is folks - Ch. 9. And, finally, an end to the battle. These next several chapters that I have planned will be going by slowly; they're all mostly conversations and character development, so that means you folks will be learning the backgrounds of Lazarus and Dinah. In the coming chapters, I'll also be introducing a new character.

Now let me tell you folks a little bit about how I've got this story planned out. If you look through the chapter selection menu of this story, you'll notice that an additional title has been added to chapter one: "Phase 1." Allow me to elaborate: this story will be separated into five separate phases, although the number of chapters in each is uncertain at this point in time. But if I have anything to go by, the outline of the overall plot is three pages long in my word processor, so there's going to be plenty of reading material for you folks.

Also, word of warning, but not only is there some more of my signature horrible humor in this chapter, but you can expect it in the future as well. Yes, I could go strictly serious, but, as Lazarus would say, "That would be boring, wouldn't it?" And with reading, boring can kill a reader's interest. So I'm trying to keep things interesting. And besides, so far, I've found that my horrible humor makes it easier for me to set up the story. Remember ending of ch. 7? HH development moment - if I haven't thought up that little fracas between Lazarus and Dinah, then the supercar "Predator" wouldn't have been introduced until later on.

In any case, enjoy my work as much as you can.

* * *

For a full ten minutes after War's explosion, the two humans couldn't approach the crater that had formed. It was simply too hot – they learned of this by driving Predator around the crater, and using the gun camera in FLIR (Forward Looking Infrared) mode to determine the residual heat. Not only was the crater itself extremely hot, but so was the air itself.

Eventually, as the ten minutes ticked by, the temperature of the area slowly decreased to tolerable levels, thus allowing for investigation.

Ruin came from a full on gallop slowly down to a complete stop. As Lazarus dismounted, Predator pulled up beside Ruin, also coming to a slow and steady stop – the man's boot crunched down on burned and blackened soil. He looked up at the edge of the crater, which rose at least twenty-five feet above ground level.

As Dinah closed the door to the supercar and walked up beside him, he asked "You don't think that he blew himself up, do you?"

She merely shrugged. "Well we'll just have to take a look and find out, won't we?"

"Yep. Seems so." With that, he began to start climbing up the crater's edge. However, he only managed to make several feet up the slope when Dinah called out to him.

"Lazarus, wait – come over here for a second."

Dinah was running in a different direction along the crater's slope. Then he saw what had caught her attention – a body. Immediately, he stopped climbing and ran after her; Ruin simply waited by Predator. In moments, the two reached the body and learned that it was a Phantom Guard. The demon's body was covered in burns – severity uncertain. Lazarus lowered himself to a knee next to the body, flipping it over on its back. Just in case if the demon was playing dead, Dinah drew her sidearm.

"So?" she asked. "Dead or alive?"

"Hard to tell. The dude's got burn injuries all across his body. I'm guessing that they're at least second degree. Maybe higher, maybe lower – I don't know; I'm no doctor."

Lazarus reached down for the demon's neck, feeling for a pulse. While the demon was definitely different than a human, its basic anatomy would probably be, more or less, the same. And sure enough, as Lazarus pressed two fingers to where the major blood vessels would be for an average man, he could feel a strong and steady pulse. The demon was, miraculously, alive.

Laughing slightly, Lazarus stood back up. "Yeah, he's still kicking. But he's gonna be feeling some pain when he wakes up."

"So what are we going to do with him?"

The man didn't answer right away. After several seconds of thought, he gave his answer. "Go get some rope from the car." Lazarus' intentions were clear. Wordlessly, Dinah complied. But just as she started walking away, she stopped herself cold as a small groan resounded from the unconscious demon.

A smile slowly formed on Lazarus' face. "Cancel that – looks like we'll be holding him at gunpoint." He kneeled back down, removing Mercy from its improvised place on his belt.

"Can you hear me?" he said to the demon. It groaned, as if in acknowledgement.

"Good. Now wake up."

This time, it didn't do anything.

"Come on, pal, wake up." He tapped the tip of the Guard's nose with Mercy, eliciting another groan from the demon. "I know you can hear me. I've got a gun, and if you don't open your eyes now, I'm gonna blast your damn brains out."

That certainly seized the demon's attention – it slowly opened its eyes.

"There we go. Enjoy your beauty sleep, pal?" Lazarus said with a smirk. The demon muttered something foreign that he couldn't understand – perhaps a demonic language of sorts.

"Yeah, well fuck you too. But I'm not the one who's got a gun pointing at my head. So don't piss me off."

"What do you want of me?" the Guard asked slowly.

"I'm glad you asked that," the human said, standing back up and walking several paces away.

"Stand up," commanded Lazarus, turning back around to face the demon. It didn't comply.

Sighing, Lazarus raised Mercy.

_BANG!_

The salvo of bullets crashed into the ground next to the Hell-spawn's head, startling it.

"Get. Up." Lazarus fired off another warning volley. This time, the demon hastily obeyed.

"Now then – keep your hands above your head." Again, the demon complied.

"What do you want from me?" the Guard asked again.

"Simple: I've got some questions for you that I want answered."

"And what makes you believe that I will answer these questions, human?"

_BANG!_

This time, a bullet grazed the demon's face – it flinched.

"Keep testing my patience, pal, and eventually one of these bullets will end up somewhere in your head."

Turning to Dinah, who also had her firearm leveled at their prisoner, Lazarus said "I'm going to go look for War. If he tries anything – anything at all – kill him."

Dinah offered no acknowledgement – her fierce gaze as she aimed down her weapon's sights was the only answer he needed.

And thus, Lazarus began the short climb up into the crater.

* * *

Someone was calling his name – "War. War," – but he couldn't identify the voice. Every time the voice sounded he could hear the words echo in his head, and yet, it sounded as if it was far away. Then he felt his body being moved – instantly, alarm bells began to ring as his instincts told him to assault an assumed hostile. But he couldn't bring himself to do it; he was so tired. Yes, so very tired.

Then he felt someone drape his right arm across their shoulder – he was being carried, concluded War, and not in an undignified manner. An enemy wouldn't do this. War wearily opened his eyes and took in Lazarus' form carrying him as if he was a wounded comrade on a war-torn battlefield. Then he looked down at himself – he had reverted back to his normal form.

They were heading towards the wall of the crater. Briefly, Lazarus cast a sidelong glance at War, only to do a double take.

"Hey there sleeping beauty," he said with a smirk. "'bout time you woke up. I've been verbally slapping you around for the past three minutes trying to wake you. But man, you were out like a broken light bulb. Admittedly though –"

"Lazarus," interrupted War.

"Yeah?" _'Is he gonna tell me to shut up? Might save my hide – I was just about to tell him that I actually slapped him several times to wake him up.'_

"Set me down," the Horseman said weakly. Carefully, the human lowered War down onto his back. His red hood fell off in the process, allowing Lazarus his first really good look at War.

He had a full head of hair, with two separate locks of hair on both sides of his head extending down to the top of his torso. Both, his hair and his eyebrows were a snow white in color. His face had virtually no wrinkles whatsoever – the only wrinkles he had to contend with were near his mouth, which formed a slight, near perpetual frown. War blurred the line between age and youth. His complexion was pale, which reinforced the fact of his weak and tired state.

But what was most striking to the human about War's face was the large, intricate scar that adorned the Horseman's forehead. From below one of his glowing blue eyes, the scar curved upwards across the eye and eyebrow, continuing to curve across the forehead, before curving back down across, and ending symmetrically, below the other eye. A long, central scar cut directly through the center of the curving scar and ended at the top of the bridge of his nose, right between the eyebrows.

For Lazarus, this was the first time that he saw this. _'What the hell?'_ He stared at the bizarre scar – the Horseman's eyes were closed, so he couldn't tell what the focal point of Lazarus' attention was. However, the human's next comment gave himself away.

"Damn War, that's some fucking battle wound you got there," he said, laughing. Idly, War reached upwards with his right hand, tracing the scar with two fingers. "Is there a story behind that?"

War chose to ignore Lazarus' question and asked his own: "Chaoseater. Where is it?"

"What, you mean your sword? It's over where I found you." He glanced back behind him. A little ways away, the large sword was embedded in the ground, no longer in its transformed state.

"I'll go get it for ya."

"No!" War said hastily – his sudden energy quickly evaporated. "Lazarus, don't." Slowly, War tried to force himself to stand, only to fall back down on his back.

"Uh, sure, whatever you say Horseman – just wait a moment and rest a bit more."

Lazarus sat himself down next to War. "So, why don't you want me touching your sword? You super-possessive or territorial or something?" he asked conversationally.

"No. Chaoseater is my sword, and it has been mine for as long as I have been a Horseman in service of the Charred Council."

"Yep. Super-possessive."

"No. That is not it. The sword has been mine because it has been bound to me."

"Bound? Care to elaborate?"

War's frown seemed to deepen. "I will, but only if you stop interrupting."

"Oh. Sorry. Keep going then."

War sighed, before continuing. "The sword is bound to me – not in the physical sense – but mentally. It is because of this that only I can wield it."

"But I said that I wanted to retrieve it for you."

Again, War sighed. _'It seems that he is intent on constantly interrupting.'_ His frown deepened further, and his eyes opened to make visual contact with Lazarus'. "If someone, other than me, were to even touch the hilt, that is, in such a manner to attempt to wield the weapon, the sword directly assaults the mind of the individual. If the attempting wielder is weak minded and weak willed, they will die in mere seconds, their minds shattered by Chaoseater's power. If, however, the attempting wielder is of strong will and mind, then they have a chance to control the sword for a short while, before it then assumes control of them in turn. And once this happens, the sword induces extreme insanity in their mind, sending them into suicidal attacks against the enemy, provided if there are any around. In the event of a hostile encounter and if all enemies are then successfully eradicated, or if there are no hostiles to kill, Chaoseater then kills its host and waits for me to retrieve it. And due to the fact that I am mentally bound to the sword, I know exactly where it is, should I ever come to lose it."

"So, in other words, the sharp and pointy edges of the weapon aren't the only dangerous parts of it."

War merely gave a slow nod in response.

"By the way you're describing things, you make it sound like as if the sword is sentient."

"In a way, it is."

Lazarus gave out a low whistle. "Man, that's scary. A weapon that thinks," he said. "What if the weapon decides to turn on you – decides to kill you instead of your enemies? What then?"

War merely shrugged. "So far, that hasn't happened –"

"But what if it _does_?"

"Then I do believe that I would be 'fucked,' as you would say." The human formed a smirk on his face and laughed – for some reason, the expression seemed to have an undertone of insanity to it.

"So, basically, you've gotta be downright insane in order to use it."

"And that depends upon how you define insane."

Again, the human laughed. "Yeah, that it does. But that's a debate for another time," he said, rising to his feet. As Lazarus stood to full height, the sound of light laughter shocked him still – it was War. It wasn't the type of laugh that was filled with humor. This one was rife with relief. However, the man didn't seem to realize this.

With a smirk, Lazarus closed his eyes, folded his arms, and puffed out his chest, saying "Ah yes, how my comedic prowess has grown. My presence alone is enough to make people laugh."

"No. That isn't it."

Instantly, Lazarus' demeanor deflated like a balloon – the air escaped his chest; his cocky smile turned one-eighty; he hunched his back as his folded arms fell down and hung at his sides. "Man, talk about a mood-killer."

"This is the first time that I've used so much power at once."

The human's gloomy demeanor changed to inquisitive. "You mean that monster you transformed into? What was that by the way? And how'd you even do that?"

"That was my Chaos Form. And, aside from a few alternative options, I can only transform via the use of Chaoseater."

"Huh. Chaos Form and Chaoseater. Makes sense. Let me guess, the sword 'eats' the chaotic energies of battle, or something along those lines. Right?"

"That is correct. As you have seen, it is incredibly powerful – when I am in that state, I am capable of destroying entire armies with little effort. However . . ."

Lazarus tilted his head. "But what?"

The Horseman sighed. "For a moment there, I nearly killed myself."

"What?" Lazarus asked, part confused and part shocked.

War began to stop paying attention to the human, becoming absorbed into his own musing. "When I was trying to transform, I nearly lost control. It was as if I was unleashing Chaos for the very first time, as if I was merely an infant. But I have transformed plenty of times before. Perhaps –"

"WHOA, whoa, whoa, wait a minute," interrupted Lazarus. "So does that mean you nearly blew yourself up?"

"Maybe; if there was an explosion, it might have leveled the entire battlefield."

This elicited nervous laughter from the human. "Jesus, that's even scarier than your sword." Offering his hand to War, he then said, "Come on, let's get going. I think I've had enough of this place."

* * *

The female human exuded power. Everything from her stance to her glare had actually managed to foster fear in his being. The demon, he was scared shitless – but he did a good job at covering up his apprehension. Nonetheless, he worried about his future, provided that if he had one. The woman's glare was filled with hatred and malice – she looked like she wanted nothing more than to plant a bullet in his head. And she never looked away. Not once.

"Human," it said. "What do you hope to accomplish by holding me prisoner?" She remained silent, still piercing him with her unyielding stare.

Did he push his luck? "Demon." Apparently, he hadn't. "You have no place knowing our objectives. Now be silent."

"And yet, I am being held captive as a prisoner of war. Surely, I must have some importance."

_BANG!_

A large caliber bullet grazed the demon's forehead.

"Understand this, demon: you are worthless to me. I would sooner have you dead than captured."

"Then why hold me captive?"

_BANG!_

This time, a bullet slammed into the demon's right hand. In a predictable pain response, it clutched its hand and grunted in pain. Dinah was losing her already diminishing patience – her anger surged to the surface.

"You know what? You're really beginning to piss me off." She paused for a moment. "You're probably not even worth the effort of interrogating, let alone being held prisoner. I should just kill you right now and be done with this."

She shifted her aim so that her next bullet would be sent straight into the demon's head. Slowly, she squeezed the trigger.

"That's enough, Dinah!"

Standing atop the crater's edge, looking down on the two, was Lazarus and War – his hood back up and Chaoseater retrieved and slung across the Horseman's back. Using the slope of the crater to slide down to the ground, in mere seconds, Lazarus intervened between comrade and prisoner. War chose to simply glide down to the ground with his Shadowflight ability.

"Calm down, Dinah," he ordered, placing a hand on the barrel of her weapon and lowering it. "Go get some rope from the car." With a final glare at the Phantom Guard, she hesitantly and reluctantly obeyed.

Turning to their prisoner, he said "Dude, quit playing 'twenty questions' before you piss her off."

For the present moment, the Hell-spawn complied as well. Lazarus' posture was relaxed, and Mercy wasn't even aimed at the demon, not anymore. Apparently, the human didn't even feel threatened by even a Phantom Guard. Perhaps there was no need to feel threatened; if he attacked, the human could easily end him – and rather effortlessly. He had seen the human slay dozens – maybe even hundreds – of his comrades. Killing a lone and wounded Phantom Guard, who was at range no less, would be child's play for him.

'_Oh how low I have fallen,'_ the demon lamented to itself. _'However . . . '_

In terms of treatment, the human male was a step up from the woman. Perhaps, if he played his cards right, he might be able to swing the situation around in his favor. "Human, from what I have gathered from your cohort, you intend to hold me as a prisoner of war. Is that correct?"

"Yep, seems that way."

"And what purpose would this serve?"

"I already told you: I've got questions, you've got answers."

"But you assume too much, human. I am nothing but a Phantom Guard – a simple soldier. I know nothing of importance to you."

'_Man, I can see why Dinah's losing her temper with this guy,'_ Lazarus thought with a sigh. _'He doesn't know when to shut up.'_

Just as the Guard was about to say something else, the man interrupted. "Jesus Christ, don't you know when to keep your mouth shut?" Lazarus closed his eyes and sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Man, you're tenacious."

Then, suddenly, his eyes flew open in a "Eureka!" moment. Dinah picked that moment to come up beside him – complete with restraining rope for the Guard.

Suddenly, Lazarus doubled over in maniacal laughter. "Yes, that's it! That's perfect!"

"Lazarus, what are you talking about?" Dinah asked, confused. Her comrade didn't seem to hear her.

"From now on," he said, pointing at the Phantom Guard. "You're nickname will be 'Tenacious D!'"

The demon blinked.

War blinked.

Ruin blinked.

Dinah blinked . . .

. . . then promptly detached the magazine from her rifle and threw it at her comrade's forehead, contacting with a loud _thwack!_

"Fucking idiot, where the Hell did that come from?"

Down on the ground, lying on his back and sporting a brand new wound on his brow that, oddly enough, didn't seem to affect him at all, Lazarus said, "Just now, from my comedic ingenuity."

"Comedic ingenuity my ass! What was even the point of saying that?" she asked as she retrieved her ammo magazine and put back in its rightful place.

"Just for something funny and clever to say," He said, shrugging.

Squatting down next to Lazarus she held up a fist. "Okay, first of all, and I give you props for this, yes that was clever of you, but most certainly not funny." She raised a finger.

"Second of all, you are, by no means whatsoever, a comedic genius, although from time to time you do have your moments." Another finger was raised.

"And lastly, don't you ever . . ." She raised her sidearm and jabbed him in the chest – she completely removed her finger away from the trigger, so as not to accidentally fire the weapon.

"ever . . ." Another poke.

"_ever_ name a demon after one of the best rock bands that had ever existed again! That's just downright insulting." Done with her rant, she offered her free hand to help him up.

Lazarus rolled his eyes. As he was helped to his feet, he said "Oh please, I don't think Jack Black would mind if the name sticks. He's dead, after all." He brought a hand to his chin in a contemplative manner. "Come to think of it, I don't think any rock junkie would mind."

"Don't be too sure of that, Lazarus. I think Jack Black _would_ _very much indeed_ _mind_. And besides," she said, changing the subject. "You don't look to smart when you're making terrible jokes. Please, stop – I would very much appreciate it if you would. Not only would I appreciate it, but so would the audience."

Lazarus made a confused expression and looked around in all directions, scanning the environment for something. "What audience?" he asked slowly.

Dinah made an audible sigh, shaking her head as she walked back towards the demon to secure him. Scratching his head, Lazarus was just about to ask his comrade what she meant, but stopped when he noticed War mounting his steed – the man began walking towards the two. Noticing his arrival, War turned his head to address the human.

"Lazarus. It was a pleasure to fight alongside you. But now I must be going." The Horseman still looked somewhat weak, but the color was beginning to return to his face.

"Go?" Lazarus asked. "Go where?"

The Horseman paused for a moment. Then, "I am looking for my siblings, the –"

"Wait, you, War, the First Horseman of the Apocalypse, has siblings?" the human asked incredulously.

"Yes. Two brothers and one sister – does this seem odd to you?"

"Yeah, that kinda does, in fact. Who are they?" _'Not like I'll know them or anything,'_ he thought doubtfully. With an amused smile, War answered with pride in his voice.

"Fury, my sister, and Rider of the Black Horse; Strife, one of my brothers, and Rider of the White Horse; and lastly, our leader, Death, my other brother, and Rider of the Pale Horse. Together, the four of us make up the Horsemen of the Apocalypse."

For several seconds, neither Horseman nor human said anything. Then, with an embarrassed smile and lightly smacking his forehead, Lazarus said "I should've known. Man, why do I feel like an idiot for asking that question?"

"That's because you are," Dinah called out, still securing their captive.

"Bite me, jackass!" he called back.

"Do you know where they are?" the man asked War.

"No."

Lazarus blinked several times. "Well I'll give you points for being honest, but doesn't that seem a bit stupid to you?"

"So says the idiot," Dinah called out again.

"SHUT UP, DAMMIT!"

"You're right," admitted War.

Dinah came walking up to them, holding the Guard's tied up hands behind his back. "He's actually right?"

"Dinah, I swear to God, if you don't shut up I'm gonna kick your ass," threatened a growling Lazarus. Knowing that she got under his skin, Dinah formed a victorious smile and stayed quiet.

"Continue War," Lazarus said with a sigh.

"You are correct with your assessment. It is foolish of me to venture out and search for my siblings with no knowledge pertaining to their whereabouts. However . . ." War paused, tightening his grasp on Ruin's reins.

"I cannot simply stand by and wait for them to come to me. We have many enemies, which are indiscernible in number – perhaps innumerable. If the locations of my siblings and I are learned by the enemy, they will not hesitate to hunt us down." Again, War paused. He looked up into the sky, which was just beginning to darken as the sun began its descent below the horizon. Night was falling. "What you saw me accomplish today is something that every one of my siblings can do as well. Alone, we are very powerful, but not invincible. With an organized and concentrated effort, our enemies can kill any one of us just as easily as any normal warrior. However, when even just two of us are together, our chances of survival increase exponentially. When all four of us are together, we are an army unto ourselves."

"So, in other words, there's strength in numbers," summarized Lazarus.

"Correct." Lazarus mulled all of this over, apparently thinking of something big. Again, War glanced up to view the coming night, the light from faraway stars slowly, one by one, winking into existence, as if someone was turning on light switches. The Moon began its ascent above the horizon, the satellite at its most visible and brightest form of the lunar phase.

"I should be going," War said. "Farewell." But, just as he signaled for Ruin to begin moving, Lazarus called out to him.

"Wait."

And without his say-so, Ruin abruptly stopped – the flaming stallion turned his body so that he and his master could look the human in the eye. And they did make eye contact – and as they looked into Lazarus' emerald green eyes, they saw several emotions vie for dominance. One was respect – the respect that War has earned from fighting with this human. Another was determination, but of what was the man determined of? Yet another was doubt or, perhaps, fear. Then, determination, in tandem with respect, won out.

Finally, "Come with us."

"What?" War tilted his head in curiosity in confusion.

"Come with us," Lazarus said, repeating his offer. "There's a ruined city not too far from here – probably about five miles or so. Dinah and I have a nice little setup going for us; there's food, water, shelter, and most importantly, security. You can get your strength back up without some jackass interrupting you. Then, once you're feeling up for it, we can help you look for your family."

War was surprised by this offer. "You would willingly risk yourselves to help me?"

Lazarus shrugged nonchalantly. "Why not help you? We've got nothing better to do."

He turned to his female cohort and asked "Isn't that right, Dinah?"

For a moment, she didn't respond, but she was fully aware of his question. She glanced at War, then at their demonic prisoner, then finally at Lazarus. The look he was giving her was of a silent command. She hesitated, and then nodded in acknowledgment, not in response to the question, but to the order. _'Ok, Lazarus, if that's what you want.'_

"Pretty much," she affirmed, making eye contact with War. "We just do what we can to survive. Other than that, we don't do much."

"Yep. And it's as you said; there's strength in numbers. And besides, you saved our asses today – big time. If you hadn't showed up as conveniently as you had, the two of us would have been overwhelmed against an army of that size. We owe you one.

"So? What'll it be?"


	10. Chapter 10

**Author's Note: **Not much to say, other than sorry for the delay. I guess I let this one go one for too long without it being published. Anyways, enjoy.

* * *

"Are you sure about this Lazarus?"

"I most certainly am Dinah. And it's not like we can back out of this now – we're nearly there."

The two humans were inside Predator, with Lazarus manning the steering wheel and Dinah riding shotgun. Their prisoner was in the back fully tied up, knocked out with a nasty bruise on his head, courtesy of Dinah, to keep him from making any trouble.

The Moon was high in the sky now, and the darkness of the night was punctuated with a countless number of stars. Predator came to a slow and steady stop. Lazarus opened the door and stepped out of the vehicle, looking up. A massive cloud formation was heading their way from the West, obscuring the sky above it as it moved.

'_Hm. Cloud cover – that'll help with our approach into the city.'_

"Is there something wrong?"

Ruin came trotting up to Lazarus, with War looking down on his newfound ally. At first, the man didn't answer the Horseman's question – he merely kept on looking up into the night sky. He let out a sigh and watched his warm breath rise up into the cold air. Then the human turned his head to look at the phantom steed, examining the horse's hooves specifically. He noticed that flames danced around the stallion's hooves, giving off a source of light in the coming darkness.

'_That could be a problem.'_

Finally, "War, dismount."

The Horseman raised an eyebrow in confusion; he complied nonetheless, with horse and rider exchanging looks.

"What's wrong?" he asked again. Then, he noticed the human's demeanor. The man's face was as stoic as his, displaying no emotion save for cautious seriousness. He wasn't very talkative either – this, War realized, was a different side of the man.

"We're about a half-mile out from city limits," Lazarus explained.

"That is good, right?"

"Yes. And no," the man replied cryptically. "There's no shortage of hostiles in the city. So we've gotta make our approach as stealthily as possibly. However, the flames around Ruin's hooves will give us away to any potential attackers."

Ruin seemed to understand what Lazarus was implying. Before any request could be given, the horse phased into the ground, the embers from his form dying away almost instantly.

"Huh. Well that saved me a bit of time." He leaned down and poked his head back into the supercar. "Dinah, get on the gun," he ordered. The car moved slightly as the woman limbered back towards the gunner's seat – then, a compartment on the vehicle's top opened up, raising the turret up into position.

"War," Lazarus said. "You're riding shotgun." War nodded, and as he passed Lazarus, he was stopped when the man placed a hand on his armored shoulder. "Hold on a second."

Reaching down to his belt, the human produced Mercy and offered the grip to War. "I believe this is yours," he said.

"Indeed. Is there a reason why you're returning this to me now?"

"No, not really; just returning what's yours before I forget. But, since you're riding shotgun, you might as well be our second gunner."

As human and Horseman took their seats and closed Predator's door's, Dinah, unable to speak to them directly due to being closed off, keyed the vehicle's radio from her seat. _"Hey Lazarus, why don't you explain our RoE to War."_

"Right, rules of engagement. Horseman, I want you to blast anything that gets too close to the car, or if and when there is more than one target, threats that Dinah isn't actively engaging. But remember, we're trying to be sneaky here – above all else, do not fire until we ourselves are attacked first."

With that, they headed off. Lazarus didn't send the supercar up to high speeds – that would've created a large dust cloud that anybody could see for miles on these plains, even at night. Instead, he kept the vehicle at a steady twenty miles per hour. Because of this, it took several extra minutes than normal to reach the city outskirts.

Finally, as soil and grass began to merge with broken and cracked concrete, Lazarus once more brought Predator to a halt. "Alright you two, I'm going dark," announced Lazarus. Just as War was about to question what the man meant by that, Lazarus answered his question by action. Darkness suddenly closed in all around them as the car's headlights were switched off. Then, War noticed something even more important than the lights. It was now completely silent – the noise the engine was making had stopped, as well as the slight vibrations it gave out.

"_Activating visuals; stand by."_

While waiting for Dinah to get herself squared away, Lazarus flipped a switch on his car door, lowering armor plates down in front of the windows, effectively preventing any light from entering or escaping the vehicle's interior while also serving the secondary purpose of additional armor. Then, another switch later, a large holographic display sprung to life in front of driver and passenger, allowing the two to see outside. On Lazarus's side of the windshield, four additional small camera feeds hovered off to the side, overlapping over the main display – three of them showed the views from the cameras on the sides and rear of the vehicle, while a fourth simply remained blank.

"_Visuals coming online. Ok Lazarus, I've got a clear picture. Check me."_ The fourth display suddenly came to life – off to the side of the display, the long barrel of the supercar's machine gun could barely be made out against the surrounding darkness.

"Yeah, I've got a clear feed too."

"_Alright, I'm now cycling through vision modes."_ The darkness surrounding the gun barrel suddenly disappeared and the world changed color as the gun camera switched first to the green of night vision, then to the black and white of the FLIR, and then finally to the multiple colored-hues of the thermographic mode.

"Alright, everything looks good. Stick to FLIR and thermals. War and I will be seeing green for a while."

"_Roger that,"_ was Dinah's reply as she switched back to FLIR mode.

Reaching up to the holographic display and "touching" one of the camera feeds, Lazarus slid the "window" across the screen to War's side. "Think fast Horseman," the man said, before slinging another window War's way. He didn't, but it didn't matter – the windows came to smooth stop in front of War. Hesitating, War eyed the holograms with slight wonder.

"What is this?" he asked curiously. Before he could utter another word, Lazarus interrupted. "Whatever you say, don't call it 'magic,'" he said with a small smile. "Here, I'll give ya a crash course.

"These are holograms," Lazarus said, gesturing towards the displays. "The largest of these in front of you is, obviously, the 'windshield.'" The man reached out to another camera feed, and, with two fingers, shrunk the display, and then enlarged it. "Now you try."

Like Lazarus, War reached his right hand out towards one of the camera feeds and copied the human's actions.

"Pretty easy, huh?"

"Indeed," was War's reply. "However, I now have a question."

"Shoot."

"How am I supposed to engage any potential hostiles with these armor panels down?"

"Don't you worry about that, my apocalyptic friend; if we end up in combat, I'll just simply raise the panels up and lower the window. And besides, Dinah's the one that has all of the heavy firepower – she'll be doing most of the attacking. In all honesty War, you'll be of much more use to me as another pair of eyes. Those displays I sent your way look out on the car's right side and rear; all I want you to do is to keep your eyes on those two screens, and if you see anything suspicious, let me or Dinah know about it."

Still finding the holograms interesting, War reached out an inquisitive hand, only to unwittingly change the viewing mode on accident. Noticing this, Lazarus gave ever more advice.

"Tapping the feed of one camera will change the mode it's on. Keep it on night vision – it should tell you what mode it's on."

With all of that said and done, Lazarus applied slight pressure to the accelerator, bringing Predator from sitting idle to a slow and steady pace. No noise or vibrations were given out by the engine – again, War noticed this.

"Is the engine operating?"

"Technically, no."

"Then how is the vehicle still moving forwards?"

"There are two hydrogen fuel cells that complement the engine. The car can work just fine on these two fuel cells alone – just as long as I don't go too fast. If I go any faster than sixty miles per hour, then the main engine automatically starts itself up."

"_He's an inquisitive one, isn't he Lazarus?"_ Dinah chided in, irritation clearly evident in her voice.

"Hey, it's good to ask questions you know," he replied, noticing her testiness.

"_Yeah well, if he keeps on asking away, then he's liable to let the entire city know that we're here."_

"Oh relax; give him some slack. First of all –"

"_Lazarus."_

"What?" Lazarus sighed.

"_Shut up and stop the car,"_ she said quietly.

Lazarus eased off the throttle slowly in compliance – Predator came to a slow, gliding stop in response.

"What's wrong?" he asked lowly. For a moment she didn't answer. "Did you see something?"

"_Yeah."_

Lazarus darted his eyes to glance at the feed of the gun camera, which was currently operating in the black and whites of infrared. The camera showed a street in a commercial district of sorts. Lazarus didn't see anything of interest – just the old dilapidated buildings and the cracked street.

"What am I looking at here Dinah?" She didn't respond.

"Dinah?" he asked a bit more loudly.

"_Shhhhh . . . quiet."_

Silence became dominant as Lazarus and War kept their eyes glued to the various camera feeds, with Lazarus keeping an eye particularly on the gun camera. The turret continued to stare down the street, unmoving. Why wasn't Dinah moving the turret around? Did whatever she saw, see the car as well? Or perhaps, whatever she was looking at was hiding in the turret's general direction of fire – maybe it was hiding in one of the buildings off to the street's sides. For nearly half a minute, nothing happened – then, movement. Out of the shadows of one of the buildings, something emerged.

It was a demon – a Phantom Guard. He cautiously stepped out of his cover, looking around in all directions, but repeatedly looking back in their direction. He looked around a bit further before making a beckoning gesture towards the building he was in. In several moments, another Phantom Guard emerged. And then another, and another. It was a squad of demons, which easily numbered about a dozen or so members. Out of the pack, several of the demons in particular caught War's attention.

They were bigger than the Guards, but had the same sort of body. Clad heavily in armor, these demons, three of them, wielded a frightening demonic weapon. They held these weapons with two hands, one in front of the other. Although they were far away, War could clearly see what it was, especially since the normal red glow it emitted made it brighter on the night vision. On the weapon's front, staring its victims in the face, was the visage of a demon, its maw gaping wide, as if it made to swallow its wielder's enemies whole. Large, serrated spikes that tapered to a point hung on rails on the weapon's side, waiting to be launched upon command. The spikes glowed with an unearthly red flame.

War had encountered these weapons before. Called "Fracture Cannons" by the demons, they were infamously known for being highly lethal – provided that the projectiles hit their targets. That was the problem with them: they seemingly had no aiming apparatus whatsoever. Therefore, the killing potential of Fracture Cannons was solely dependent upon the wielder. But then again, the users of these powerful tools of war always seemed to show skill and competence.

This wasn't good. He had to tell his comrades.

"Lazarus," War said, gesturing towards the demons.

"Yeah, I see 'em," the man replied softly. "This might get ugly."

"Then you know what those are?"

"Yeah, seen 'em in action before too. Those guys can take down a tank with a little effort. With that in mind, I doubt they'll have much difficulty killing us."

"_Provided they can hit us," _Dinah quietly replied. Lazarus nodded in response, tightening his grip on the steering wheel and gear shifter, readying himself for some potentially crazy maneuvers.

"Dinah, you got a clear shot lined up?"

"_If I move the turret any, they might see the movement and know we're here. Can't risk it."_

"Well you might have to in a second. That one Guard is leading the entire pack this way, and he looks a bit too curious for his own good."

Indeed, the demonic patrol was slowly moving towards their position. War couldn't help but notice the extreme caution they practiced. They were looking in all directions. But the demons with the cannons were almost constantly looking _skywards_.

The Phantom Guard leading the squad raised a fist up in the air. The point-man, signaling a stop. Immediately, the squad obeyed. For a moment, nothing happened. But then, the Guard motioned for one of the big demons forward – one armed with a Fracture Cannon. The Guard spoke closely to his fellow demon and waived a finger in their direction. The large demon stepped further forward, raised his weapon, and took aim. Then, a burning spike was launched out into the night.

The demon's aim lived up to War's expectations. The projectile landed no less than a foot away from the car. And while it didn't hit them at all, the flames from the spike illuminated its surroundings, which included Predator. The demons could see them!

"Shit! Dinah, open fire!"

In the silence and the darkness of the night, Predator's machine gun roared to life, the flickering flashes of the gunfire illuminating the street further, and the guttural roaring of the weapon utterly destroying the once peaceful silence.

Almost instantly, the demon with the cannon downrange dropped to the ground, its armor pockmarked with bullet holes and blood running freely from freshly made wounds. The entire squad dived for cover, any cover, out in the open street. The other two demons with the ranged weapons shoved a derelict car up and on its side, creating cover more suitable for their larger sizes. In a moment, they retaliated, unleashing flaming spears back into the night, taking turns popping out of cover and attacking. One fired every spike on the weapon quickly before having to reload, while the other took careful aim.

In response, Lazarus shifted the gears into reverse and floored the accelerator. The engine – the gasoline part of it – rumbled to life as the tires screeched on the pavement. He yanked the steering wheel left and right, sending Predator in a zigzag manner, narrowly evading the spikes as they crashed into the pavement, cratering it.

"_Keep her steady!" _Dinah yelled in irritation.

"Screw you! I ain't getting us skewered!"

Then, as the last spike in the volley landed, the projectiles violently exploded, causing to Predator to skid out of its pattern.

"Not Good!"

Suddenly, the supercar rocked with the force of impact, the uncomfortable sound of screeching metal resounding inside the vehicle as a new spike ripped the turret from the chassis. The spike kept on going, bringing the now useless turret along with it. Then, a second later, this spike also exploded outwards, destroying both. The part of the ammo belt that was still attached to the turret went off afterwards in numerous secondary explosions. The side of Predator's chassis was showered in a short-lived storm of shrapnel.

"_Shit!"_

"Alright, I think it's time we bug out!" Lazarus anxiously said.

In a burst of speed, Predator peeled away from the losing battle. The demons, sensing their opponents' weakness, surged forth from their cover, keeping up the pressure. But the loss of the machine gun wasn't totally in their favor; being demons' only source of light in this sky-obscured night, it had become much harder to actually see their target now. But that didn't deter them – they kept on firing.

But the demons' fury blinded them from another threat, one that circled the skies above the battle, drawn to the commotion that had disrupted the peace; the very threat that the demons had been watching for before the battle had even begun. And it didn't see the retreating form of Predator; instead, it saw the demons, especially the ones armed with the Fracture Cannons.

And then it struck, dive bombing from above. An unearthly wail filled the night air, startling the demons. The sound was so strong that it even pierced through the dual layers of armor and glass of Predator, easily being heard by the vehicle's occupants, even Dinah, encased away in her own little cockpit. Said occupants, aside from Lazarus who was occupied with getting away as fast as possible, saw the events unfold.

Whatever the creature was, it slammed down into one of the armored demons with incredible force, the impact throwing up dust into the air. That was all they were able to see before Predator rounded a corner, their escape seemingly successful.

Lazarus exhaled a sigh of relief. "Now that was close."

"_So, it's good to ask questions, huh?"_

Lazarus sighed again. "Huh? Oh, yeah. Right. Sorry."

"_Damn right you're sorry. We almost got screwed back there."_

"Oh that wasn't so bad. We got out of that in one piece."

Dinah's reply was silence. War gave him a look.

"Ok, mostly in one piece. Nothing a few repairs can't fix."

"_Whatever. Let's just pay more attention from now on."_

* * *

They had been travelling for a while now – probably for at least twenty minutes, estimated War. According to Lazarus, their base of operations was on the far side of the abandoned city, deep in the industrial districts. Dinah's advice proved to be effective; after their initial skirmish, they had encountered two other demonic patrols, as well as some demonic fauna. It wasn't too difficult to sneak by them, but Lazarus said that sometimes he had to "be stealthy – Solid Snake style. Except with a car." Whatever that meant.

Lazarus then explained to War that there was a sizeable demon garrison stationed in the city, although for what reason Lazarus couldn't discern. Although there were several patrols out and about, there weren't many of them. According to Lazarus, the demons preferred to work during the day, coming out of their base en masse. It was also during the daytime that Lazarus and Dinah conducted their operations.

"Would it not be easier for you to work at a time when the demons are not as numerous?" War had asked.

"You've got a good point, but you're also wrong," was Lazarus' response. "There are some pretty nasty things in this place that like to come out during the night. You know that first patrol we ran into? The one that got clobbered by that one monster? There's monsters that are much nastier, and _bigger,_ than that."

"But we never even saw what it looked like. How can we know how deadly it truly is?"

"The ambusher can be just as lethal, if not more so, than the pursuer," Lazarus replied sagely.

"True."

Dinah joined in on the conversation. _"And besides, we've seen those things in action before. They're reptilian in nature and can fly. A preferred hunting method is to fly at a high altitude and dive bomb their prey. We don't see them up close very often, because that's when they're going to kill you. Why do you think we travel in this tank of a car?"_

War nodded, understanding.

Finally, they came to an area of the city that had many factories and warehouses – undoubtedly the industrial district that Lazarus mentioned. Predator pulled up to a large factory building, complete with an adjoining warehouse.

"Here we are. Home sweet home." announced Lazarus.

War eyed the establishment before the vehicle – like much of the city, the building was old and rundown, with many holes in the walls of the structure. Really? This facility was their base? How could it when its structural integrity was highly questionable? But perhaps he wasn't seeing something important; maybe Lazarus was just about to show him how they survived here. And indeed he did – the man brought the vehicle up onto an entrance ramp and into the building.

The interior was spaciously vast and dark. Numerous support beams towered up higher into the structure interior. Catwalks suspended well above the ground floor crisscrossed every which way, with cold metal ladders leading up onto higher platforms. Predator came to a stop at a corner of the building, where it was surrounded on all sides by a rectangular warning sign on the ground. Due to the darkness of their surroundings, it was difficult to identify the markings on the cement floor. The segment of the ground that the supercar was now on was different than the rest of the floor – cold metal.

Lazarus smiled. "From the vehicle, dismount!" he barked, raising the armor plating, allowing for him and War to exit. "I always like saying that." War raised an eyebrow, though not directly at his ally.

"_Hey Laz, you and War go on ahead. I'll finish up turning off Predator's systems and meet you downstairs."_

"Got it," he acknowledged. "War." He gestured towards the Horseman to follow.

The man walked up to a metal pedestal that had various buttons on it, made visible by small lights inside the buttons; he pressed two in quick succession, before quickly stepping away from the console. War did likewise. Then, the faint sound of whirring machinery came to their ears as the metallic floor that Predator was on, as well as the console, slowly sunk into the cement – it was an elevator, specifically for the vehicle. Eventually, the very top of the vehicle descended below floor level – where the floor of the elevator once was, a metal panel slowly, but eventually, took its place, covering up the hole in the cement floor.

Not too far away, there was a three-walled enclosure – another elevator, obviously for personnel use. Lazarus walked towards this elevator, with War in tow. When the two stepped inside, the Horseman noted how spacious the interior was; there was plenty of room for several people to fit in comfortably.

Lazarus pressed only a single knob on the command console, and the doors closed of their own accord, small lights in the ceiling winking on, dimly illuminating the elevator interior. Then, War felt a sudden surge of momentum as the elevator began its descent. The two were in this semi-darkness for a brief amount of time when the elevator came to a steady halt. The doors abruptly slide open, revealing a long and wide, brightly lit hallway, with a closed doorway at the far end. War had to shield his eyes for a second; he had become accustomed to the darkness of his surroundings.

When his eyes had readjusted to the light, he noticed the features of the hallway – the whole thing was white; the floor, the ceiling, the walls, the lights – everything. It was somewhat disorienting. He noticed the condition the hallway was in; everything looked new and well maintained and the lights shone with strength. Everything looked completely the opposite of the run-down factory building above.

The human stepped out of the elevator first, making for the hallway exit at the other end. The Horseman followed. When they were half-way through the hallway, something happened – the doors to the elevator suddenly closed and the sound of whirring machinery attested to the fact that the elevator was ascending back to where it once was. But how could that be? There was nobody else inside the thing but Lazarus and War. Was it pre-programmed to go back up to the surface after it emptied its passengers? Or maybe . . . .

War's brow furrowed as he pierced the back of the man's head with a suspicious glare. He reached for Mercy's holster, but he didn't draw the weapon.

"This had better not be a trap, Lazarus."

The man came to a sudden halt. He turned halfway, giving War a confused look.

"Come again?" he asked.

"This feels like a trap to me." He had been lured into a setup once before. War would not let something like that happen a second time. Lazarus turned his body to fully face the Horseman.

"I won't hurt you, just as long as you don't try and hurt me."

He noticed War's hand hovering over Mercy, ready to level the firearm in a second. "Relax, Horseman. You're one of the few allies that I have left in this world."

Something was different about the man's disposition. Unlike out on the battlefield, where he was loud, energetic, and almost carefree, he was calm and quiet. He still had his trademark confidence. And his eyes held the look of an honest man. Lazarus was right. His fears were groundless. He relaxed. And then, in an instant, he changed back to what he once was.

"And besides, you're not the only one who hates this part."

War merely raised an eyebrow in confusion. What did he mean by that?

Turning back around in the direction of the supposed entrance to their base, Lazarus yelled out "You know, for once, I'd like to walk into my own goddamn home without being scrutinized!"

For several seconds, nothing happened. Then, an icy, feminine voice answered. "Voice print recognized. Password accepted. Now, will you kindly step up to the retinal scanner for proper identification?"

"Cut the crap Alex, you know it's me." Despite saying this, he walked up to the device mentioned, which was situated right next to the door, standing stock-still, allowing for the scanner to do its job. In moments, the device emitted a beep, signaling that the task had been completed – Lazarus stepped back. Several seconds afterwards, Alex announced, "Identity verified."

"Great. Now let me in dammit."

"Just one second. Who . . ." Suddenly, a plate in the ceiling popped out of place, sliding aside, revealing an automated turret as it lowered into position, its long barrel pointed squarely at War's head. ". . . is this?"

This time, and with lightning speed, War didn't hesitate to level Mercy at the turret. But before he could squeeze off a salvo, Lazarus intervened by stepping in between the two.

"Both of you stand down!"

"Lazarus, what are you doing?" Alex asked with a wintry calmness.

"Simple: I'm stopping you from killing a new ally."

She didn't respond right away, as if mulling over what the man said.

"An ally, you say?" she asked slowly.

"Yeah, an ally – as in he's _friendly_. He just needs a safe place to crash for a little while. Now please, for the love of god, put the gun away."

Again, she didn't respond immediately. A tense silence entered into existence as Alex seemed to consider the validity of Lazarus' words. Then: "Very well. As you wish. But if you're wrong about him, then you may as well be dead already." The turret disappeared back up into the hallway ceiling – Lazarus breathed a sigh of relief. Casting a glance over his shoulder, he saw War holster Mercy, apparently relaxing as well.

"Come, on," Lazarus said, beckoning War to follow. "Let's get inside before bullets actually does start flying."


End file.
